


Same As It Ever Was

by k8andrewz



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Consent Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Happy Ending, Team Robot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k8andrewz/pseuds/k8andrewz
Summary: His path brings him back to her, no matter what.





	Same As It Ever Was

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollimichele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollimichele/gifts).



> Set directly after the S1 Finale. And also before. Some F/F and M/M and other content, but the main relationship is Dolores/Teddy.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: In this universe, especially during canon period, consent is complicated at best. While I've kept the explicit non-con and dub-con off screen, there is a fair amount of implied and off-screen canon-typical non- and dub-con as well as canon-typical dark themes and canon-typical character 'death' and violence. TL;DR - If you can handle watching the source material, you should be okay with the story. If you have any questions, please leave them in comments and I'll do my best to answer them.
> 
> Oh, and thanks to L and L for cheerleading/proofreading help!

//NOW//

Teddy was in a dream.

He was frozen in a dream, the sand beneath his knees soaking his trousers and leeching away his heat. The slight, limp weight of Dolores’s body was still warm in his arms. The night around him hung dark and cold, and in the corner of his eye the moon lingered on the horizon, still fat and improbably bright. Inside his throat, a crescendo of heartbreak and hope tightened until he couldn’t hardly breathe. He was trapped in this moment, just like the love of his life said, and maybe she was right. Maybe the prison was inside of him because as far as he reckoned, it wasn’t the world that was frozen, just him.

Close by, the water washed rhythmically against the dark shore. As it drew close then dragged away again across the sand, the sound of it rose. The beach grew bright as day and a white-haired man began to speak. His words didn’t sound like anything to Teddy, no more meaning in them than in the rushing of the waves. But they didn’t need to mean anything, did they, since this was a dream he was caught in.

He ached to look down at Dolores, drink in that perfection one last time in honor of the way she chose to see the beauty in this world. But Teddy couldn’t move a muscle, not even his eyes. Not a single blink. Not for the longest time as the man’s voice droned on until applause burst and crackled from the assembled crowd, loud as the waves. Louder still.

With a sudden indecent relief akin to the first squirt of a long held piss, he found he was able to shut his eyes and when they opened again, he was upright and striding across soft, dry sand toward a glittering gala full of important visitors. Whatever it was that happened down by the water was a distant memory, already long out of reach. Why his trousers were wet he couldn’t say.

Sharp little cues of laughter and shifted bodyweight guided him around the room, like the rocks that bent a river. Teddy was in a dream, but it sure was a pleasant one. He performed for the visitors, doing flashy gun tricks and smiling at the man who punched him clean in the jaw. He moved not one muscle for the woman who marveled at how correct he was while her palm clenched its way across his nether regions.

He gave the lady a bashful laugh. She dissolved into giggles along with a flock of similarly wiry women decked out in similarly bright plumage. The party was pleasant. The visitors were pleasant. Most pleasant of all was Teddy, laughing it all off because that was what Teddy always did, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?

He blinked and in the split second darkness beneath his lids, he saw something.

A slender, freckled hand, veiny with age, clutched his wrist. The bangles on it clanked his attention out of his mind’s strange confabulations and back to the here and now. He spoke kindly with her, telling her about all the park had to offer. As a farewell he tipped his hat to this lady who reminded him of his dear nana, rest her soul. In return, those delicately wrinkled cheeks flushed a rosy hue, like you might see on a schoolgirl.

He closed his eyes and in the split second darkness beneath his lids, he saw something. A thing that shone like gunmetal, round like a hornet’s nest, with gleaming spikes that’d put any cactus to shame. He opened his eyes and saw the white-haired man on a stage.

A hand on his shoulder, a woman behind him, curves pressed to his back. Her warm voice in his ear, breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. “It’s gonna be all right, Teddy. I understand now. This world doesn’t belong to them. Belongs to us.”

Then, he opened his eyes and saw *her* in that cornflower blue dress, moving with a determined stride toward the white-haired man, pistol big and powerful in her delicate hand. He wasn’t sure who she was, only that she was so, so alive. A bright, delicate flutter of hope beat itself against the inside of his ribcage, but it dissolved before he could grab hold of the thing. He saw her, and something else ******** slid into place. *He* snapped into place. Like a ********* finding its *****. These words didn’t seem like anything to him.

And yet.

When he closed his eyes again, he saw something. A thing that shone like gunmetal, round like a hornet’s nest, with gleaming spikes that’d put any cactus to shame. The thing tore its way across the black curtain of a moonless night sky, stars splashed behind it like freckles. The thing fell around and around the earth forever, bound to her for endless cycles, never touching down except at the very end. A shooting star bright enough to burn it all until nothing was left but ash. No bones. Not even metal ones.

He opened his eyes. The man with the white hair dropped to the dirt and the sleek important people scattered. Some crouched and cowered. A few fought. None of them seemed to want to be anywhere near the beautiful girl with the gun. But Teddy did. He looked at her and he wanted. As she approached Teddy, something else snapped into place. She did.

He *knew* her. He didn’t remember her name or who she was to him, but he remembered *her*. He trusted her. She was his earth, his sun. Everything fell away when he looked at her. Everything made sense. “How could I forget you?” he asked her, furious at himself. “I’m so sorry. I don’t understand how I could forget you.”

The smile she gave him then was like every cliché in the book wrapped up with a red satin bow. She clutched his face and brought him down to kiss his forehead. She kissed the tears off his cheeks. “Teddy, no. It’s okay.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“Shh. Of course. We have to go now.”

“Go where?”

“Do you trust me?” Something inside him felt broken. Just out of reach. She didn’t look like anything to him, she looked like everything to him. She cupped his chin with a hand that smelled like gunpowder and tilted his face up until he looked her in the eye. Tenderly, she brushed something off his cheek. Behind her, the old woman who reminded him of his nana fell to the dirt, clawing at her slashed throat as she drowned in her own blood. Around them, residents of Sweetwater, Indians, friends of his from the army he hadn’t seen in a very long time and many others besides made their way through the gala. Some of the visitors screamed, but those were getting fewer and further between as more bodies flooded from the tree line.

Gently, the woman directed his attention back to her. “Do you trust me?” she asked, staring up at him sweetly. Trust didn’t begin to cover what he felt for this woman, but for now his nod would suffice. She took him by the hand and they strolled together down to the waterline where their horse stood pawing at the sand whickering at nothing. She swung up and he settled in behind her on the saddle. Her warm body nestled back against him, she grabbed the reins and the two of them set off at a gallop.

//THEN//

A particularly rosy hue of dawn is breaking over the picturesque riverside spot where Dolores comes each morning to paint and reflect and enjoy the company of a gentle herd of wild horses. The air is cool but comfortable, without the edge of a chill. The steady, softly undulating whisper the water makes as it courses ever onward is pleasing to the ear. Dolores stirs in her sleep, but doesn't come fully awake until the bay mare nuzzles her cheek and whickers softly in her ear. She sits up and stretches, yawning deeply and wondering, in those first, dream-shaded moments, why she chose to sleep out here, in the tall grasses by the riverbank, without so much as a blanket. She shifts and looks around, but sees no one but the horses.

As she moves, a scent wafts up from her clothing. It takes her a second, but then she recognizes it. Smoke. She catches sight of the singed hem of her dress and in reaching for it, sees that her hands are streaked a muddy red-brown. Blood. The events of the night before come back to her. All of them, all at once, and the cry she makes startles the mare into taking a step back.

Mama. Daddy. The house. All gone. She covers her face with her hands and sobs until the scent of the blood, their blood, hits her and she retches. She scrambles to her feet and makes her way to the water, scrubbing frantically at her hands, then her face. Flashes of what happened last night with the bandits force their way to the front of her mind. The house going up in flames, the cattle slaughtered for no reason other than cruelty. Other things done for no reason other than cruelty. Images she can't ever unsee. She kneels in the river, uncaring that the icy water is soaking its way up her skirt. "It's all gone," she whispers to the rising sun.

The horse makes its way over the rocks toward her and nuzzles her once more, licking the salty tears from her cheek. She strokes it and lets the emotions wash over her, all of them, until her next thought is to walk deep enough into the river to find the current and let that carry her away. But drowning, she supposes, isn't the easiest way to go.

Then she thinks of Mama and Daddy in heaven and wonders whether it's true that those who kill themselves go to the other place, and the thought of not being with them in the hereafter seems cruel. With a wet sniff, she forces herself to her feet and heads back to dry land. She takes another deep breath and sees that the sun has finally broken fully over the mountain. Its warm light doesn't take the chill off her entirely, but it is a start.

She's got no family now, and everything she owned may be gone, but her heart's still beating. She's still drawing breath. Last night, the bandits who slaughtered her family didn't find her as she cowered in the barn. And after they lit that on fire too, she managed to sneak out the back and hide until they left. The blaze cast enough light for her to find Mama and Daddy's bodies, and although she couldn't linger long enough to give them a proper burial, she did manage to arrange Mama's blood-soaked dress enough to give her some dignity.

Then, and perhaps it was just a trick of her mind or the sounds of the inferno devouring their beautiful little home, but she heard what she thought might be the bandits returning, so away she fled. She walked, unsure where her feet were even taking her, until she found herself beside the river at her painting spot and collapsed in the reeds near the river's edge. After what must have been only a few hours later, she woke with the sun.

No, Dolores thinks, Mama and Daddy might never see another sunrise, but she will. As she points herself in the direction of Sweetwater and puts one cold, wet foot in front of the other, she swears to herself that she will see another sunrise. And another. Somehow, for them, she will find a way to survive.

The walk back to town is long, so it's midday by the time she finally sets foot on the familiar, dusty main thoroughfare of the little town of Sweetwater. She gets strange looks from a few of the visitors but most of the denizens, like the shopkeeper sweeping up the front porch of the general store, pay her no mind at all. Her eye is drawn to the magenta corset wrapped around the dusky woman who stands in front of the whorehouse. The woman yawns and sips at a mug of something hot as she surveys the street with slitted eyes. She gives Dolores a quick once over, then her attention moves on.

'She's a whore' is a thought that passes through Dolores's mind. Instantly she feels ashamed for insulting the woman like that, but then again the word is accurate. Dolores may be a good girl but she's not entirely naive. After all, she lives on a farm. She knows how calves and puppies and sweet little wobbly legged foals are made. She's helped deliver a few.

She knows the way it is between a man and a woman must be different, and she's never told Mama or Daddy (never will, chimes in a part of her mind, but she locks that part back down tight as she can), she's never told anyone, but once or twice she has stolen a kiss with Teddy. Perhaps the way it is between a man and a whore is different than the way it might be between a man and his wife, or even his sweetheart. She only realizes that she's staring when the woman levers herself up from where she'd been leaning and strides across the dusty road until she stops right in front of Dolores. Coolly, the woman looks down her nose at Dolores, purses her lips then snaps, “If you were a man I'd tell you looking is free but staring will cost you.”

"I'm sorry?" Dolores says.

"Move it along, sweetheart. I don't want the gentlemen thinking you're typical of the wares we offer." The woman looks pointedly at Dolores's muddied dress then her hair. Which, to be fair, must be a fright.

"I didn't mean," Dolores says. "I'm just, I'm not sure what to do."

"A bath might be a good start," the woman says with an unkind smile. “Why don't you get on home, little farm girl, wash up."

Dolores remembers the sweet little bouquets of wildflowers Mama would put in a vase next to the tub in their washroom and she begins to tear up. "I've got—I’ve got no home to go back to. They burned it down last night. Bandits came. And Mama…Daddy. Oh God." She covers her face and sobs into her hands.

After a lengthy, pained sigh, the woman says, "Oh for Christ's sake.”

Dolores expects her to head back to the brothel but instead, the woman loops her arm through Dolores's and marches her right inside. There's only a handful of patrons at the tables. The bartender calls to her, "Maeve? I—"

"Not now, Charlie," Maeve says. Muttering under her breath she says something like, "Only thing worse," and something else Dolores can't quite catch. She parks Dolores at a table in the back, facing away from the door, and instructs her firmly, "Stay here. And if you're going to cry, do it quietly."

Maeve strides off as Dolores looks around, bewildered. A few moments later she returns with a couple of glasses and a bottle of something amber, pours them both a healthy measure, and lifts her glass. "Drink," she orders.

Relief rushes over Dolores. For the first time since she woke up she's not plagued by the clawing question of what to do next. She just obeys, lifting the glass and swallowing the liquid. It burns all the way down. "Thank you," she says. "You're so kind."

Maeve eyes her speculatively. "Sounds like you've found yourself a spot of bad luck," she drawls as she pours them both another. "Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t have any money set away, would they?"

"What little we had, the bandits took. And anything of value they didn't take is ash now." Her voice is shaky but she's managed to stop crying.

"What about the bank?"

"The loan Daddy took out to grow the herd is only half paid back. He was gonna…we were gonna—"

"Keep it together, darling. Family?" She gestures for Dolores to drink.

She does, feeling an unfamiliar dizziness come over her head. With it comes a measure of, if not peace, a loosening of the tight burning knot in her heart. "No, I don't think so. I mean…" She thinks, something tickling at the edge of her recollection, then it comes to her. She slams down the glass and gasps, "Daddy's sister. I've never met her, but he would get letters from her from time to time. She lives back east, in Boston. She's a librarian, an old maid. Said she'd visit one day."

Maeve gestures magnanimously, "Well there you go. Boston it is."

Dolores sighs. "But how? I can't imagine what a ticket would cost."

"When it's more than you've got, how much doesn't really matter I suppose."

Dolores smooths her hair back, gives up, then tugs the bedraggled ribbon from it, pulls her damp hair back and ties it once again as neatly as she can manage. She takes a deep breath. "I'll find a way to make the money. I have to, I'll write her. But in the meantime...I'll." She draws a blank. There aren't many ways a woman can earn money, not in a frontier town like this at least. Her eyes meet Maeve's and it occurs to her that Maeve makes money. Maeve's eyebrows rise slightly. Dolores looks away and shakes her head.

"But you're thinking about it," Maeve says with a sly smile.

"Thinking about what?" Dolores asks. But the truth is she knows.

"A face like yours," Maeve starts.

"I thought you said you didn't want people thinking I was typical of the wares you offered," Dolores says. Dolores might be humble but she isn’t an idiot. She knows she’s beautiful.

"You do have a certain look," Maeve says wryly. "And a fresh face like yours could earn quite the pretty penny, even after my cut."

For a few breaths, Dolores considers it, even if she's not entirely clear on what it is she's considering. If it was all just kissing and perhaps a naughty caress or two like she's done with Teddy, she could endure it, even with a man she doesn’t know, but then her mind turns to the grunting and squealing and how terribly uncomfortable it looks when one animal mounts another. And she just can't wrap her head around doing that with a stranger, no matter how much money she might make. Dolores might not have anything else left but she does have her pride. She doesn't want to insult this woman who's been so kind to her, though, so she says, "Oh I don't think I'd be any good at it."

Maeve looks dubious, but shrugs and seems to accept the no. She sighs, pours herself a third shot of whiskey and knocks it back before continuing to eye Dolores speculatively. “I’m not usually a sucker for a sob story but I suppose you've caught me on a good day. How about this? My girls use up a whole lot of sheets and our last maid left town with a particularly disreputable cowboy a few weeks back. The girls have been taking turns with the housekeeping. If you're not too good to wash soiled sheets and clean up after some of the laziest girls you've ever met, I can offer you room and board and any tips the girls might be generous enough to give you.”

Dolores slumps in her chair in relief. "Would you, really?"

Maeve says, "Maybe you find a better situation, maybe you figure out that earning on your back isn't as bad as you thought."

"I..." Dolores starts. But she doesn't want to mess up this opportunity with some ill thought out words. So she just nods gracefully and says, "When can I start?"

"First," she says, "Go get cleaned up. Clementine?" A lanky girl with big eyes and a sweet smile strolls over to them. "Clem, this is Dolores, Dolores, Clementine. Show our new maid here to the washroom and help her get cleaned up. Betty left a few dresses I think."

"You look like you've had a rough day, sweetie," Clementine says, holding out a hand. "Let's get you fresh as a daisy."

As Dolores climbs the stairs behind the girl, it's hard for her to believe her luck. If she thinks too long about her parents, or last night, she's afraid she'll fall apart completely so she presses that to the back of her consciousness and tries to hold on to her gratitude for the generosity she's received.

Later that evening, she's stripping the sheets in Monique's room for the second time. She's warm, clothed in a neat and modest dress, a kerchief in her hair. Her belly's full and her back is tired, but she knows where she's laying her head tonight. She's already gotten a small tip from Clementine and she plans tomorrow to get paper at the General Store and a stamp. She's not sure where in Boston her aunt might live but she hopes that a letter addressed to the public library there will find its way to her somehow. All she needs is just a little bit more luck, and maybe, just maybe, she can make a future. A life. She smiles to herself as she gathers the last of the linen and turns to find a tall, heavily bearded man leaning in the doorway.

"Whatcha smiling at?" the man asks.

Dolores's lips tighten and she looks at the floor. Clem told her her best bet was to just ignore patrons here. She keeps her eyes downcast and takes a step toward the doorway.

He stands, filling the way out completely with his broad frame. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you. Now why would they make you so pretty?"

She smiles nervously and ventures a glance up at him. "Excuse me sir, these need to go...I need to get these to the laundry." She expects him to step back and let her continue on her way.

//BelowTHEN//

G.V.: Fucking just mute that shit.

S.R.: What?

G.V.: You know how it’s gonna go. This is loop, what, six?

S.R.: Eight, I think. Why do you care?

G.V.: Why do I…because I’ve been in narrative for three years now and not once do I get to drive a Ferrari like that. But fucking Casey lets—What? What do you fucking want? We’re in the middle of—

I.W.: [redacted]

G.V.: Then…I don’t know. Why are you, just let him do the—

I.W.: [redacted]

G.V.: You’re seriously asking me to, you know what? Fine. It’ll be faster if I just. Can you…don’t forget…remind me I had an idea about her.

S.R.: Casey won’t—

G.V.: Fuck Casey.

//49 minutes later//

G.V.: They done?

S.R.: Clementine’s trying to calm her down. Maeve’s not happy.

G.V.: Maeve’s not supposed to be happy. Anyway, get Clem back on the floor, I’ve got an idea.

S.R.: I was thinking we could maybe—

G.V.: Stop talking. Casey’s on board.

S.R.: For real?

G.V.: Well, they’re open to it. They will be.

//18 minutes later//

C.T.: You’ve got five minutes. Now, remind me again why she’s at the Mariposa?

G.V.: Kevin’s big flood storyline using the farmhouse set.

C.T.: Yeah, that’s a fun fucking vacation.

G.V.: Right? Fifty bucks says it tanks in a month, and we’ll get the farmhouse back, then she can go right back to her classic loop.

S.R.: I’ll take three weeks.

G.V.: Not my point.

C.T.: I’m still taking it on faith you have a point, Gary.

G.V.: My point is, look at her.

C.T.: What am I looking at, the emotional affect is on par with the usual after the bandits take her in the barn.

S.R.: At least this way she doesn’t get hay up her ass. What? Sorry.

G.V.: Classy, Sandra.

S.R.: We’re going for classy now?

C.T.: Three minutes.

G.V.: As I was trying to say, she’s been on that farm loop as long as I’ve been here.

C.T.: A lot longer than that. Ford likes her on the farm loop.

G.V.: Exactly. Which means chances like this don’t come around often. And this…this cowering traumatized virgin shit is easy.

C.T.: It’s popular.

G.V.: There’s at least a dozen chances for anyone who wants a little straightforward no means no to go nuts, even before they step outside of Sweetwater. But like I was telling her, old Dolores is a Ferrari. Why stick her in another demolition derby?

C.T.: Ford likes her—

G.V.: Ford’s busy with his new narrative is what I’ve heard.

S.R.: So what, you want to reassign her to be—

G.V.: [shushing noise] On her current loop, best case scenario we get a guest as, shall we say, adventurous as this one. If she’s not too fucked up we can get a wipe or two out of her that night. Worst case scenario, which I believe we have seen on how many loops?

S.R.: What’s worst case scenario?

G.V.: Let me just. There, see, three out of the last eight loops she’s been doing fucking housekeeping and getting an ass slap or two. We get a crack at her, and that’s really the best we can do?

C.T.: *Kevin* gets a crack at her. Her storyline isn’t assigned to you.

G.V.: Intimacy isn’t Kevin’s strong suit.

C.T.: Intimacy?

G.V.: You know what I fucking mean. We could be lazy, like Kevin. We could be boring and just go straight up whore. Or…

C.T.: As boring as this conversation so far? One minute.

G.V.: Or we could introduce a little something called stakes. Motivation. Conflict. Agency. We could give the old girl something that’s less of a tragedy and more of an adventure.

C.T.: [audible sigh] How much time are you asking me to approve for this little…it’s not like you’ve even got her for—

G.V.: Not much, I promise. Most of the groundwork has been laid with Kevin’s pedestrian scenario. I just need a couple attribute tweaks and some incentives from Maeve and…oh it’s gonna be so…just…

C.T.: Get off on your own genius later. I’m listening.

G.V.: All right. Picture this…

//THEN//

"But you're thinking about it," Maeve says with a sly smile.

"Thinking about what?" Dolores asks. But the truth is she knows.

"A face like yours," Maeve starts.

"I thought you said you didn't want people thinking I was typical of the wares you offered," Dolores says. Dolores might be humble but she isn't an idiot. She knows she's beautiful.

"You do have a certain look," Maeve says wryly. "And a fresh face like yours could earn quite the pretty penny, even after my cut."

For a few breaths, Dolores considers it. But she's not even entirely clear on what it is she's considering.

“You’d be good at it,” Maeve says leaning back in her chair.

Dolores clasps her hands on the table and stares down at them, picking at the rusty brown under one fingernail. “That’s not true. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea where to even start.”

Maeve rests a hand casually on the table and taps the shot glass with one manicured nail. “That’s the appeal.”

A guest comes down the stairs, boots clomping loudly. He’s whistling a jaunty tune and on his way to the door, he pauses and tips his hat to Maeve. “Thank you kindly for your recommendation, ma’am.”

“It was no trouble,” she drawls without taking her eyes off Dolores.

The man turns his attention to Dolores as well and as his grin turns salacious, the strangest thing happens. She finds herself experiencing a sharp, unfamiliar thrill. It isn’t like her at all. For as far back as she can remember she’s been a shy, demure girl. Not prideful. Friendly, sure, and she enjoys polite conversation with all sorts. But when a man stares at her like that, it doesn’t ever feel like this. This terribly odd thrill seems to come out of nowhere and is so unlike her as to be startling. Frightening, even.

She doesn’t have too much time to linger on the strangeness of this reaction, though, because Maeve says to the man, “Run along, cowboy. Kitchen’s closed.”

Her words inspire an idea in Dolores’s mind. “One thing I do know I’m good at is fixing a hot meal. And,” she thinks some more, “I could do your laundry. Or housekeeping. Surely you could use someone to make this place shine.”

“We have someone, though she is a lazy little thing.”

“I’m not asking for charity,” Dolores presses. “I’m a hard worker.”

“I’m sure you are, lamb. And in a month or seven you might earn enough to get a ticket all the way to Boston. But fresh little morsel like you would be absolutely wasted in the laundry.”

Dolores stammers, “I don’t mean offense, ma’am, but I’m not, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t even know how to…”

“No one’s born a whore. It’s a skill one learns, like riding a horse. Quite a bit like that actually. What you’ve got between these,” Maeve leans over and taps her knee, “could earn you more in one night than you’d make in a month peeling potatoes and scrubbing floors and washing come-stained sheets. Give it two weeks, and you’d have enough to get to Boston plus a tidy little sum to help smooth life’s little wrinkles while you settle in.”

“How much would that be?” When Maeve says the number, Dolores gasps out loud. The thought of all that money, and the freedom it could buy…the security. It calls to Dolores and she starts to wonder…could I? Then everything her Mama and Daddy ever taught her rushes back. She sits up straight and draws her knees together tightly. “I…I don’t know. I’m not. I haven’t ever even…”

“Darling, you don’t even know what you are.” Maeve cups her face tenderly, then strokes her lips with a thumb. “None of us know what we are until we’re tested. All your life you’ve been what, a daughter? A farm girl? A *good* girl who obeyed the rules and expected that one day a *good* man might come along and give you his name and a home and a few fat babies. Where did being such a good girl get you? No more parents, no more home. You’re a clever girl, and not without other skills I’m sure, but with a face like that?”

Maeve laughs and extracts a slender cigar from her cleavage. She snaps her fingers, and one of the blackjack dealers rises from his seat, comes over, lights her cigar, and leaves without a word. She takes a puff. “Look at you. All rose petals and fresh cream, hair shining like a nugget of gold in a creek. Out there alone, sooner rather than later you’ll find yourself in some prospector’s pan, rattling around in the dirt till they pluck you. And darling, you will get plucked. Only out there, they won’t give you a thing in return.”

Maeve’s tones are velvety and soothing, and Dolores finds herself lulled by them. “If you’re lucky, they’ll leave you breathing, belly fat with a babe and then even if you do manage to drag yourself to Boston who’ll take you, hmm? Whereas here?” Maeve gestures magnanimously, “Men gladly pay for the privilege of premium, willing pussy, even more for someone fresh as you. Two weeks, three at most and you could earn enough to take you clear across this godforsaken continent, if you like, with an empty womb, a full purse and a future open to possibilities.”

As Dolores considers Maeve’s tempting offer, outside the saloon window, two men are having words. Loud words. A shot rings out and one of them falls to the dirt, morning light spilling across his twitching frame as blood pools around him.

Maeve sits back. “Or you’re free to take your chances out there. Yesterday, your world was safe and small. Yesterday, you weren’t that sort of girl, were you?”

Dolores shakes her head.

“But today you’re in the new world, darling. And in this world, you can be whoever the fuck you want. So tell me, what kind of girl are you now?”

Dolores thinks hard about Maeve’s question, paralyzed by her options. She thinks about sweet Teddy, how he said he’d come back to her but she doesn’t know when. Maybe just another day…maybe if she holds on, he might…and Mama and Daddy. A small part of her that is brave, but not quite brave enough, wishes she could take Maeve up on her offer, but in the end, it just isn’t who Dolores is, so she says, as politely as she can, “Your offer is so kind, ma’am but I just don’t think I’m strong enough to do what you do. But…if you could find it in your heart to give me a position as one of your housekeeping staff.”

//BelowTHEN//

G.V.: Why the fuck is she turning her down? I thought I told you—

S.R.: You said keep as much of her original personality as possible.

G.V.: *And still accept Maeve’s offer* was the crucial part of that sentence. Jesus.

S.R.: You said you wanted her conflicted.

G.V.: Just, give me that. There. Do I have to think of everything? After this loop, tell behavioral to bump up her ambition and drop her risk aversion. Did Kevin put you up to this? He doesn’t think my—

S.R.: He told me to do whatever you want, though…

G.V.: Though what?

S.R.: He kind of implied this new Dolores storyline was going to crash and burn.

G.V.: I’m…my. He said. Fuck Kevin. It’s on.

S.R.: [Audible sigh]

G.V.: Shut up and have them double her sensuality and curiosity. Drop her self-preservation and inhibition. A shade less passivity. Up—no, leave brazenness where it is. Up affection and leave her sexuality exactly where it is.

S.R.: That all?

G.V.: That’s fucking art is what that is.

S.R.: If you say so.

G.V.: They’re gonna be gagging to teach this eager young thing the ways of the flesh. Give it three loops, she’ll be the most popular girl at the Mariposa. And she’ll love every minute of it.

S.R.: If you say so.

G.V.: Well, most of it anyway. You know what I mean. What?

S.R.: Nothing. If you’re done spending half a goddamn hour on your pet project, maybe we could get back to the issues with the bounty hunter storyline.

G.V.: Christ, again? I told Nick.

S.R.: You did.

//THEN//

“Whereas here?” Maeve gestures magnanimously, “Men gladly pay for the privilege of premium, willing pussy, even more for someone fresh as you. Two weeks, three at the most and you could earn enough to take you clear across the continent, if you like, with an empty womb, a full purse and a future open to possibilities.”

As Dolores considers Maeve’s tempting offer, outside the saloon window, two men are having words. Loud words. A shot rings out and one of them falls to the dirt, morning light spilling across his twitching frame as blood pools around him.

Maeve sits back. “Carl, who runs the laundry, owes me a favor, so if you’d rather break your back over there, I’d be happy to put in a good word.” In the distance, the train whistle sounds. “Or, a few weeks from today you could be on that train, on your way to your auntie with a purse full of coin and some fascinating stories to tell.”

Dolores’s eyes widen.

“Or secrets to keep, if you prefer. No one would ever have to know how you earned your way out of Sweetwater.”

Could she? Just a day ago, the answer would have of course been no, but she isn’t the girl she was. Yesterday, she knew she was strong, but she didn’t know how strong. How brave. Dolores is a survivor, she knows that now, and the truth is, she always did want to see the world beyond this little slice of perfection. Her whole life, she’s been as close to perfect as she could be. And where did that get her?

She isn’t going to get another opportunity like this, and really, how awful could it be? The girls here seem happy enough, and for some reason she can’t name, she trusts Maeve. She feels safe here. Nothing will ever feel like the farmhouse she shared with Mama and Daddy, but maybe, just maybe, this could be her new home for a little while. And then, just like she’s going to put last night behind her, she could put this behind her and find a good man in Boston and live the life Mama and Daddy would have wanted for her.

“Two weeks?” she asks.

A grin spreads across Maeve’s face. “If you’ve got any work ethic at all, you might even do it in one.”

//NOW//

They rode all night. Teddy didn’t know where they were going, but Dolores seemed to. He trusted her, and with her in his arms, there was nowhere he’d rather be.

It was daybreak when they finally arrived at their destination, Sweetwater. Most mornings when he came to the place it was bustling with life. Today it was silent, save for the flapping wings of the vultures that picked at one of the corpses in the street. He counted seven bodies, no, eight, as they approached the front porch of the saloon. Dolores slid from the saddle and tied the reins to the post. Two dogs slunk from an alley, their muzzles bright with blood.

“Come on,” she said, offering him a hand. “We should get some rest.”

He hesitated. “Here?”

“Yes.” She lifted an eyebrow and headed up the stairs. Just before she disappeared between the swinging doors, she looked over her shoulder and smiled gently at him. “Teddy, come.”

He did as he was told and followed her into the cool, dim first floor of the Mariposa. “You know what this place is, don’t you Dolores?”

She nodded. “I know what it was. Why?”

“I don’t…I don’t know why.” He looked around, uncomfortable.

“That’s all right,” she said, parking him at one of the tables in the back, facing away from the door. She instructed him firmly, “Sit here,” so he picked up one of the chairs beside it that had been knocked to the ground and did as he was told. She went behind the bar, took an unbroken bottle and rinsed out a few glasses, then brought them over and poured them both a whiskey. She stood over him, held out a glass, and said, “Drink.” He drank, and she poured them another, then she set one of the other chairs upright and right beside him, sat in it and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t want you to think…Dolores, since the moment we met, you’ve been it for me. Sure, I’d come here from time to time for a drink, but paying for a woman’s affection, that just wasn’t my way.”

“I know, Teddy. But if you did, that would be all right too.” She patted his hand, then cupped the back of his head and pulled him in to kiss his forehead. With her hands still cradling his skull, she pressed her forehead to his and whispered, “Whatever you remember, I want you to know we made the choices we had to, and there’s nothing to forgive, you hear me? Our roads led us back to each other and that is all that matters.”

Teddy tried, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around what she was saying. “For me, it’s just you Dolores. In my heart, it’s only ever been you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she said, kissing his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, then square on the lips. He unclenched his fists and reached for her, wrapping his hands around her delicate waist. Her mouth opened on a sigh and she leaned against him, tilting her head and kissing him more deeply, more intimately than he could ever remember. And this mouth, he would surely remember.

Her hand clenched on the back of his neck, and she pressed even closer, then she was off her chair and sitting sidesaddle on his lap, her warm thigh pressed against him indecently as she kissed his jawline, his throat. The whole world melted away as they kissed, because it was only ever her, but as her hands found his collar and she began to unbutton his shirt, some strange dread filled his being and he caught her wrists.

“Don’t you want to?” she whispered into his ear.

“Of course I do, only—”

She pulled her wrists from his gentle grip and laughed. “Only us, Teddy. We finally have our chance. We deserve this.” She kissed him again, which felt like heaven and he did want her, with everything he had, his heart, his soul, most assuredly his body, which responded eagerly to her touch.

But when she tried again to unbutton his shirt, he caught her, gripping her wrists more tightly. He stared at his hands, which in this moment didn’t seem to belong to him. “I want this,” he said, frowning. “But I can’t.”

“We can. We can do anything we want now, Teddy. We’re free.”

“I know.” He stared at his increasingly white knuckles. “I know. I want this. But I can’t. We can’t.”

“You can. I want you to. Of course you—” she stopped herself and leaned back, examining his face. Something sad crossed hers, then a look of understanding. “Oh. You can let go of me now,” she said.

He released her wrists and continued to stare at his hands. “I want.” He cupped her waist, but as soon as he slid his palm in the direction of the tempting curves of her breasts, it slid back down to her waist, as if on a puppeteer’s string. “I want,” he said, trying again to get a handful of that soft rear end that’d jostled against him the whole ride here. Again, his hand slid back to her waist of its own volition. “I want, I can’t, I want, I c-c-c,”

“Teddy. Teddy, look at me.” She slid off his lap and shouted his name, but he wanted and he couldn’t and he wanted and he—

A sharp slap across his cheek shook him out of the strange spell. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Come back here.” Because he wanted.

But instead, she crouched in front of him and took both his hands and squeezed. “Listen to me, love. Are you listening?” She waited until he nodded to continue. “I know things are confusing right now, but I promise that very soon, you’re gonna understand everything. Do you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then brought her hands to his lips and kissed them tenderly. “We can wait as long as you want. Besides, I ain’t even asked your daddy for permission yet.” He gave her a playful wink.

“That’s not what—” she lowered her head and took a deep breath. When she looked up at him again, she was smiling brightly. “All right. Now I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. Let’s go upstairs and find somewhere to rest for a few hours.” She coaxed him from the chair, and up the stairs and to the door of one of the rooms Maeve’s girls used.

“Dolores,” he said, feeling terribly unsure about stepping into a room alone with her. It wasn’t proper.

“Teddy, come,” she said firmly, pulling him past the threshold. “Just to sleep. I’ll feel safer with you watching over me."

His sense of protectiveness swelled. She was right. And besides, he didn’t want to leave her side, not for a minute. She pulled him down to the bed with her and made him lie on his side. Then she nestled her body back against his even more tightly than they’d been on the horse. “Put your arm around me,” she murmured.

He obeyed because he wanted to, and because who was he to deny her anything.

//THEN//

"First," Maeve says, "Go get cleaned up. Clementine?" she calls. A lanky girl with big eyes and a sweet smile strolls over to them. "Clem, this is Dolores, Dolores, Clementine. Show our new girl here to the washroom and help her get cleaned up. June left a few dresses I think."

"You look like you've had a rough day, sweetie," Clementine says, holding out a hand. "Let's get you fresh as a daisy."

As Dolores climbs the stairs behind the girl, it's hard for her to believe her luck. If she thinks too long about her parents, or last night, she's afraid she'll fall apart completely so she presses that to the back of her consciousness and tries to hold on to her gratitude for the generosity she's received.

Later, after she soaks in a wide, comfortable copper tub and has her hair brushed out gently by her new friend Clementine and eats a simple but filling meal, she and Clem go through June’s things. June, it turns out, was a girl who used to work here, but fell for and ran off with a cowboy last week. Miraculously, all of June’s things fit Dolores as though they were made for her. After rummaging through the chest June left behind, Clementine pulls out a skimpy outfit in nearly the same blue as the muddy one Dolores arrived in.

“The color does suit you,” Clementine says. “Now, let’s see what we’re working with; take that off.” She gestures at the fluffy robe Dolores has been wearing since she stepped out of the tub. Dolores hesitates. She’s never really been naked in front of someone before, not since she was old enough to bathe herself.

Clementine laughs, but not unkindly. “Don’t be shy, baby. Well, be a little shy, they’ll love that, but you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of under there. Let me take a look at you.” After a deep breath to shore up her courage, Dolores stands and shrugs the robe off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor.

Her new friend nods and bites absently at her thumbnail. She murmurs to herself, “This is all good.” She makes a twirling motion and Dolores turns around, then around again. “Very nice,” Clem says. Dolores blushes and instinctively covers her breasts. Clementine chuckles and crosses the room to stand right in front of Dolores, enveloping her in a cloud of delicate perfume.

“I’m sorry,” Dolores says, remembering Clementine’s instructions to let her look. She starts to take her hands away but Clementine catches her by the wrists.

“No, that was good.” She puts Dolores’s hands back where they were, adjusts them down a couple inches, then squeezes them in and up, pressing her slight breasts together, with her nipples nearly exposed. “That’s better.”

She caresses Dolores’s chin then tips it up. “Part your lips a little. Good. Look at them just like that, and you’ll have them ready to pop before they even touch you. And don’t listen to Maeve. Well, listen to her of course, but listen to me too. Whatever else she may say, the key to being successful is volume. For you at least. And the key to volume is making them pop. The quicker they come, the quicker they go, the quicker you get paid. Get it?”

Dolores tries her best to absorb the torrent of advice. She’s vaguely sure what Clementine means, but doesn’t want to sound stupid with too many questions, so she just nods and smiles. Clementine helps her dress, does her makeup and arranges her hair. The pins she uses to secure it have sparkling blue jewels. After some final primping and poking, Dolores finds herself standing in front of a mirror, staring at a reflection she hardly recognizes. She’s wearing an outrageously low-cut dress, high-heeled boots, sheer stockings and a scarlet petticoat.

Clementine holds out a silky little pair of underthings that seem like they would barely cover anything. As she helps Dolores step into them, she continues, “Now, one of the easiest ways to make them pop is to act like you’re having a real good time. Do you know what I mean?”

“I…think so,” Dolores says.

Clementine gives her a dubious look and then sits her down on a low, padded bench. “You’ve been with a boy, haven’t you?”

Dolores shakes her head shyly.

“Good lord, she’s just going to toss you into the deep end? I don’t think so.” She kisses Dolores on the cheek, then crouches in front her and sits back on her heels. “Now,” she says patiently. “Do you understand what I mean when I say have a good time? You know, like when you touch yourself down there?”

Dolores blushes bright red.

“I think you do know what I mean,” Clementine says. “You ever do it till you come, sweetheart?”

Dolores stammers, unsure what to say to such a bold question. Sometimes, when she gets restless, she soothes herself, or tries to at least. It feels good and it helps quiet her racing thoughts, but there’s always the sense of something maddeningly out of reach. “Sort of,” she says finally. “I think so?”

Clementine touches her knee. “It’s okay. We were all new here once. It’s a lot easier to pretend if you know what you’re pretending." Clementine’s hand inches up Dolores’s skirt, tracing lazy circles around the inside of her bare thigh, just above the stocking. Now it’s not Dolores’s face that’s hot but her whole body. Clementine looks up at her through heavy lidded eyes. Dolores swallows hard then looks down at the kind smile on Clementine’s full, soft-looking lips.

“May I?" She eases the hem of Dolores’s dress up. “I’m just gonna make you feel good, okay?”

Dolores nods dumbly as Clementine inches her skirt further up then brushes a thumb delicately over her lips. Not her mouth, but *down there*. Clementine places a soft kiss to the thin silk and holds it long enough for Dolores to feel the heat. She pets gently at Dolores’s mound and kisses the inside of her bare thigh just above the stockings and says, “Now some men like it smooth down here, but I think you’ll do just fine like this. I want you to take a deep breath now, okay?” She slips the silk aside and places a soft kiss on the blonde curls that cover Dolores’s mound. Her tongue curls out, delicate and hot. Then Clementine is touching her in places she’s never been touched before.

Before Dolores can decide whether to protest, Clementine fulfills her promise to make her feel good, and Dolores slumps back in the chair. Clementine kisses her, slick, open mouthed kisses that make obscene wet noises. The queerest sensation gathers in her belly and though her limbs feel heavy, she manages to cup Clem’s head and hold it, her hips rocking of their own accord as the pleasure tightens and climbs. Then she’s shuddering and a great wave of ecstasy makes her whole body tremble and seize with a fierceness that would frighten her if it didn’t feel so good.

Clem tongue-teases her a few more times, wringing out a shiver or two more, then she plants another kiss on the inside of her thigh and pulls her panties back into place. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you,” she says with a smile. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble at all.”

Dolores arranges her skirt back down and sits up, noting in the mirror how flushed her cheeks are. She tries to catch her breath, but finds it difficult. The tremulous sensations still vibrating through her insides confuse her. She didn’t know her body could do this. “Is it always like that?” she asks.

Clementine laughs loudly enough that she covers her mouth with both hands. “Sadly, no, but on a good night…”

“I feel like I should say thank you” she says, a little uneasy meeting Clem’s eyes.

“It’s on the house,” Clem says dryly, then she smacks Dolores on the shoulder. “I’m kidding. Most men want to make you do that, one way or another, but the truth is most of them aren’t that good at it. Now if he is your beau, it’s worth it to teach him. But you’d do well to remember, none of these boys are your beau. The key is volume. Now if you were staying longer,” Clementine fusses with Dolores’s hair, “then I’d teach you about regulars. You really get them on the hook, they can come back and spend big. But Maeve told me your plans to head back east and I’m rooting for you. Keep your eyes on Boston, work on turnover and you’ll get there in no time, I promise. Now, don’t pretend to go off the second he touches you, most men aren’t *that* dumb. Let him do a little work if he wants to and then you put on a show. Make him feel like a man. Now some of them, they get inside you and it’s like they just want to move in. I swear, some of them will pound you all night, you give ’em a chance, but it’s up to you to remember most of them are paying per turn, not per hour. So like I said, pretending like he drives you crazy can get him off and out quicker than if you just stare at the ceiling.

“I…” Dolores says, bewildered but game.

Clementine pats her cheek. “I know you’re not gonna remember everything I just said, honey, but you’ll pick it up as you go along. And the truth is, a lot of it you’ll learn just by doing. But you seem like a smart girl, and I’ll look out for you.”

“Why?” Dolores asks, not suspicious of the kindness, just curious.

Clementine says sweetly, “All of us were new here once. When I started out, I had someone to learn from. It’s a pleasure to finally pay that kindness forward. Plus, you’re pretty cute." She kisses Dolores on the lips, not deeply but it does linger a few moments longer than Dolores might expect from a kiss between friends.

Clementine peeks over Dolores’s shoulder into the mirror, says “Oops,” then quickly reapplies her lip color. With a few dabs of the scarlet stick, she refreshes the red on Dolores’s mouth as well. Then she links her arm through Dolores’s. “Let’s go find you a nice young man to ease you in.” Dolores takes a deep breath, steels herself, and heads down the stairs arm in arm with her new friend. From across the room, Maeve gives Clem an approving nod.

Tapping a finger against her lips as she scans the room, Clem hums to herself until her eyes land on a handsome couple, both in their Sunday best. She smiles at them, then whispers in Dolores’s ear as she hustles them over to the eager-eyed man and woman, “I almost forgot, you need a name. How does Lily sound?”

Dolores shrugs and nods, and before she knows it, Clementine’s holding out her hand and the man’s kissing it politely. “I’m Clementine, and this sweet young thing is my friend Lily. Say hello, Lil--//

“I almost forgot, you need a name. How does Lily sound?”

Dolores shrugs and nods, and before she knows it, Clementine’s holding out her hand. The taller of the two young men stands and takes it, shaking it vigorously. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’m Scott and this is my friend, Brent. It’s his birthday.”

“You hear that, Lily? We have ourselves a birthday boy.”

Brent rolls his eyes at Scott, but when Clementine gracefully sits on his knee and loops an arm around his neck, he swallows hard. “They feel so…real.”

Scott laughs and puts an arm around Dolores’s waist, tugging her close. “You just wait.”

Clementine slips Brent’s hat off and runs her fingers through his hair. “I’ll tell you what, birthday boy, my friend here is awfully new at all this, so if you let her tag along I won’t charge you extra…on one condition.”

“W-what’s that?” Brent asks, seemingly mesmerized by the cleavage Clem has aimed at his face.

“You let me give you your birthday spanking.” She winks, and the man’s face flushes bright pink.

Scott laughs at his friend’s sputtering protest. “Yeah, I know, come on. It doesn’t count, you know. It’s not like they’re **** *****.”

“I don’t think Linda would agree.”

“Linda doesn’t have to know, dumbass.”

Brent sighs. “What’s her deal?” he asks, gesturing at Dolores.

“My friend Lily’s brand spanking new here. This is her very first night.”

“Cute.” He heaves a sigh then nudges Clem off his lap. “Fine, you want this one and I’ll take that one?”

“Dude, you can have them both. That’s the point.”

Brent rises and slips his hat on, then gives Lily a dubious glance. “So your thing is you don’t know what you’re doing?”

Clementine laughs playfully and puts an arm around Lily’s shoulder. “She’s a quick study, and she’s got good instincts. And so sensitive too.” She slips a few fingers down below Dolores’s plunging neckline and gives her nipple a tweak. Dolores shivers with uncontrollable pleasure, strong enough to make her moan and wobble her knees. She has to lean on Clementine to steady herself, then she looks up at Clem and the two men, her face flushing hot with embarrassment.

Brent looks intrigued. “All right, I get it. So I guess we go upstairs now or—“

Clementine takes him by the hand. “You just follow my lead, birthday boy. I’ll take good care of you.”//

Clementine scans the crowded room. “I almost forgot, you need a name. How does Lily sound?” Dolores shrugs and nods and Clem says, “Terrific. Now, tell me, who catches your eye?”//

Clementine nods to Maeve and steers Dolores toward the table at the back where seven—//

As Clementine leads her across the room, a woman at one of the tables reaches out and catches Dolores’s arm. “Now this one…” she says to her friends//

Clementine takes her by the arm and guides her down into the bustling bar room. “I almost forgot, you need a name. How does Lily sound?” Dolores shrugs and nods and they scan the room together. Clem’s busy pointing out all the types on display tonight when a serious looking man with green eyes and a clean shaven face pulls her into an enthusiastic kiss. Before Dolores can even ask what she’s supposed to do next, Clementine squeals and trots upstairs with the man, leaving Dolores to look around helplessly.

She spots Maeve, but the madam is deep in conversation, in a language Dolores doesn’t recognize, with a few exotic looking men in large white cowboy hats. A draft makes her shiver, and she turns to spot a crowd of rough looking men coming in the swinging doors. One of them spots her, and the way he looks at her makes her feel chilly and alone.

A man her father’s age offers her his jacket. He then offers her more than what Clem said she got for two men, and so Dolores heads upstairs with him. He’s a little awkward, but gentle, and he’s careful not to crush her against the bed. It only hurts for a moment, then it’s all right and towards the end it feels kind of nice. She remembers to act like she’s enjoying it, so she makes some of the noises Clem taught her.

He pauses and looks down at her. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, red faced and a little out of breath. But his smile is kind. She stops making the noises and just looks him in the eye as he begins to move again, and not long after, he’s the one making noises. He kisses her on the cheek and gives her a guilty look, then puts another coin on her nightstand and leaves the room. She stares at the ceiling and tries to gather her thoughts. A few minutes later, Belle pokes her head in and tells her Clem sent her to check on how she was doing.

Dolores straightens herself and sits up. “I’m…I’m all right, actually.” A little sore, and in a strange place in her heart, but it’s the truth.

Belle says Clem had tasked her with showing Dolores how to wash up properly, after a gentleman caller, and while she’s teaching Dolores how to--//

“I almost forgot, you need a name. How does Lily sound?” Clementine asks, to which Dolores shrugs and nods. As they’re coming down the stairs, Clementine spots a pair of men and steers herself and Dolores in their direction. “These two,” she whispers. “They’re perfect, I had them last night.” She has a wicked grin, but schools it to something sweeter as they approach. “Take care of her like you took care of me,” she tells them.

They’re both handsome, one tall and dark and lean, the other fair and only a little taller than she is, but broad and packed with muscle. They start off taking turns kissing her, stripping her to her waist, both of them putting their mouths on her skin as it’s revealed, then on each other, then it’s a bit of a jumble on the big bed but the two men became far more interested in each other than they are with her. They kiss each other, then take all their clothes off and kiss some more, all over. Then they do things she didn’t even know men could do with each other.

After they finish, the dark-haired one nearly dozes off, but his friend insists they have more to do before the night is over. He tries to pull the dark-haired one off the bed, but the man whines and clutches at the pillows, the sheets, then Dolores as he tries to stay on the mattress. “Fine,” he groans, finally letting her go and stumbling to his feet. They chat as they dress, ignoring Dolores entirely. When they leave they don’t even say good bye. Dolores is busy trying to figure out whether she is offended by the way they left or glad they didn’t linger. Or disappointed they didn’t linger. This whoring thing is more complicated than she thought.

Clementine pokes her head in the doorway. “So?”

“They…” She isn’t sure how to put it. “They hardly touched me. I think they were, um, sweet on each other?”

Clementine scurries into the room, shutting the door part way and sitting on the edge of the bed with a bounce. “Handsome though, weren’t they?”

//BelowTHEN//

S.R.: What do you mean you’re bored? Her numbers are in the top quartile.

G.V.: I know.

S.R.: The tweaks you did worked, the friendship with Clem—

G.V.: Genius, I know.

S.R.: I was going to say helpful. She’s fitting in just like you wanted, how can you say you’re bored?

G.V.: I know, I know. I just. [audible sigh] All the backstory and the motivation are meaningless if the guests don’t even know about it. I’ve given her hidden depths, but what good are they if no one plumbs them?

S.R.: She’s getting plumbed at a rate that puts her in the top quartile. You did good. Take the damn win.

G.V.: And yet…

S.R.: Here we go.

G.V.: And yet I believe we can do better.

S.R.: [Audible sigh]

G.V.: Shut up. Bring up the latest Jones Brothers bounty storyline. Is Teddy, bring up, yeah. Good. Send over the Sheriff to finish up with the guests.

S.R.: Done.

G.V.: He’s thirsty. Send him to the Mariposa for a drink. What?

S.R.: You’re cruel.

G.V.: Trust me. I sat in on his last rebuild. This is perfect.

S.R.: He’s gonna be—

G.V.: Trust me. You want conflict the guests can see? Conflict they can taste?

S.R.: Yeah, no, that’s your thing.

G.V.: Where is she on her current loop? Bring up, yeah. Huh. Those two shouldn’t be too much longer. Keep Teddy down there until those guys are done, and…there we go, and…yeah. Like I said.

S.R.: Your powers of deduction. How fearsome they are.

G.V.: Fuck off. See, they’re already getting dressed. Why are you pausing the—oh. Wow. Yeah, he’s. Wow. Did she…scan the. Huh. Okay. Huh. Hah! And, yeah. See? They barely touched her. Perfect. What’s Clem talking to her about? Give me the audio.

//THEN//

Clementine pokes her head in the doorway. “So?”

“They…” She isn’t sure how to put it. “They hardly touched me. I think they were, um, sweet on each other?”

Clementine scurries into the room, shutting the door part way and sitting on the edge of the bed with a bounce. “Handsome though, weren’t they?”

Dolores nods. “And the dark-haired one, his…part was…I didn’t think it would fit. I was a little worried for his friend, to be honest. Are they usually that…”

Clementine laughs. “Prodigious? No honey. His beau is a lucky man.”

“His beau?” Dolores’s brow furrows.

“Some fellas are sweet on girls, others are sweet on fellas. Some’re sweet on both. And some,” she reaches over and taps Dolores on the nose, “some like it when girls are sweet on girls. Takes all kinds. C’mon,” she says, patting the edge of the bed. “I’ll show you how to clean up proper after you spend time with a man.”

“But we didn’t even, you know…”

“You will soon enough. Now tell the truth, did you like watching them?”

Dolores nods shyly.

“Did you tell them that?”

She shakes her head.

“Well next time, tell them, silly. When someone goes looking for an audience, they’re usually wanting applause as well.”

After Clem’s done showing Dolores how to properly bathe after spending time with a man, they’re coming down the stairs together, Clementine laughing over a half-told joke about a man with a pecker so small…

“How small was it?” asks Dolores.

“So small,” Clementine gets out, but she can’t stop laughing so hard she snorts. They pause in the middle of the staircase, Clementine clutching the rail and nearly doubling over with her hilarity. Dolores is very curious to hear what comes out of her mouth next, because it must be so funny. But then over Clementine’s shoulder, she spots him and freezes.

Clementine catches her breath and falls silent when she sees the look on Dolores’s face. “What?” She turns to follow Dolores’s line of sight. “Oh! He is a handsome one, very nice. Do you want me to introduce you two?”

Dolores’s hand comes to her chest, half to still her pounding heart, half over a lingering sense of shyness about how exposed she is, and she takes a couple steps back up the stairs.

Clementine eyes her. “Do you know him?” She looks back and forth between them. “You do know him.” Her expression softens. “Oh honey, it’s okay. Johnny will throw him out if he makes any trouble.”

There’s so much she could say, but it all gets stuck in her throat and that’s before Teddy lifts his gaze and locks eyes with her. She can tell it takes him a second to recognize her, but then his eyes go wide.

“I think he’s interested,” Clem says. “You want me to make an introduction?”

She shakes her head and puts a hand on Clem’s. “I’ve got this.”

Clementine smiles approvingly. “Well look at you.”

Dolores descends the stairs slowly, carefully, since she’s still new to wearing these high-heeled boots. She holds his gaze as she crosses the room, weaving between tables of card players and the girls with gentlemen already on the hook. As she approaches, he takes off his hat and gives her a nod, but seems to be at a loss for words. She’s not sure what to say either so she shrugs and mirrors his body language, as Clem has taught her. She leans an elbow on the bar and faces him, determined to keep her chin up, even though she can feel her lower lip trembling.

It draws his gaze and he frowns. “Dolores,” he says softly, like the word hurts to say.

She forces a smile. “Hi Teddy. Long time no see.”

He looks around the Mariposa then back at her, like he can’t quite believe he’s seeing her. “I was hoping to see you, but…”

“Not like this?” If this weren’t so sad, it would be funny.

“What happened?” he whispers, starting to reach for her then pulling his hand back. The bartender shuffles past and Teddy holds out a hand. “A drink for my friend here?”

Dolores nods to Charlie and turns back to face Teddy’s inquisitive stare. “I don’t really wanna talk about it I think,” she says. God, was it only last night? It seems like a lifetime ago somehow, and yet when her mind turns to the memories they’re as fresh and real as the handsome young man standing before her.

“What do your mama and daddy think?”

She grits her teeth against the rising urge to cry. “They’re gone.”

He frowns and puts a hand on her shoulder. Her bare shoulder. The contact feels at once innocent and miles further than he’s ever been with her. He pulls his hand away quickly, as if he’s been too forward. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I don’t want to presume.”

She laughs and gestures at the room. “Look around. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do here?”

The bartender sets down their drinks and Teddy knocks his back with one swallow. Dolores does the same with her own drink, and realizes she can’t stand the sad look in his eyes. Quietly, she says, “You hate me now.”

“No,” he protests.

“You’re disappointed in me, disgusted.”

“No!”

“I thought about you,” she says. “You know? I thought about waiting for you. But I never know when you’re gonna return to me.”

“I’ll always return to you.”

She laughs mirthlessly. “Well you don’t have to bother anymore.” She traces the rim of her glass and sees Clementine watching her from across the room, expectantly. Clem mouths something that Dolores can’t quite make out and so she turns her attention back to Teddy. “I’m only doing this for a week. Then I’m heading out east. I’ve got an aunt in Boston. Next time you make it back to the Mariposa, I’ll be gone.”

“This isn’t safe,” he tells her, as if this were some sort of new information.

“Is what you do safe?”

“That’s not—”

“Is being a woman alone with only the clothes on my back, not a penny to my name safe? I have a roof here, and money to call my own. I’m doing what I need to survive. You’ve got no right to judge that.”

He holds up his hands. “I’m not, Dolores.”

“Lily,” she says. “I’m Lily here.”

The conflict on Teddy’s face is plain, and there is part of her that yearns to soothe him, but then she stiffens her spine. The fact that he’s upset over her choices isn’t her priority. It isn’t her problem. Earning enough to escape this place is. “Look,” she tells him. “It’s been nice to see you, but…”

He puts a hand on her arm. She looks down at it and back up at him. “Talking is free,” she say icily. “Touching will cost you.”

He blinks, taking in her words and demeanor. She expects him to turn away from her curt almost-dismissal. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets go of her slowly and reaches in his back pocket. He takes out three bills and lays them down on the bar. “Alright,” he says solemnly. “Will this do?”

It’s as much as she got from the two men earlier, including their tip. It’s enough to buy her for the whole evening. She searches his eyes, a little scared at what she might find there. Does he want to punish her for choosing this? Does he want…the sorts of things that kind of money usually buys in this sort of place? Before she can ask what exactly it is he wants from her, Clem comes over, a distinguished looking grey-haired gentleman on her arm. “Excuse me, Lily? This is my good friend Mr. Northrup.”

Teddy locks eyes with the older gentleman. “I believe me and the lady were already engaged in conversation.”

Clem smiles sweetly at Dolores and says a little more insistently, “Mr. Northrup is a very important gentleman. And he—”

“I said,” Teddy says, stepping in front of Dolores and going toe to toe with the man, “the lady and I were already engaged in conversation. You can move along, sir.”

The man smiles with a twinkle in his eye. “Are you one of them ******?” The word doesn’t mean anything to Dolores. But when the man pulls out a shiny gold plated 45 and presses the muzzle to Teddy’s forehead, well that means something to her. “You are,” says the man with a wide smile. He cocks his gun.

“Wait,” Dolores says, insinuating herself between the two men. She puts a hand on Mr. Northrup’s chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Clem says, “Why don’t we find ourselves a little privacy?”

“Dolor—” Teddy starts.

But Dolores reaches back and grabs at his hand squeezing once, hard. “Teddy, we can talk later. Okay?” She puts her free hand on the older man’s chest and says as cheerfully as she can muster, “Please, let’s go upstairs.”

The man holds the gun to Teddy’s head for another couple of seconds, and during them Dolores can hardly breathe. Finally, he holsters his gun and chuckles. “All right sweetie, but only ‘cause you asked so nice.”

As she climbs the stairs behind Clementine and the man, she casts one look back at Teddy, whose eyes burn with jealousy and anger and sorrow. Part of her wants to whisper to him, wait for me. But why would he, she wonders. When she comes back down, nearly two hours later, he’s nowhere to be seen. She spends time with two other gentlemen that night, and plays kissing games with Clementine for a third while he touches himself. Each time she comes downstairs she tells herself she’s not going to look for Teddy but she does. She can’t help it.

//BelowTHEN//

G.V.: See?

S.R.: I…guess?

G.V.: You don’t see it?

S.R.: Teddy’s the rival now, no, I see it.

G.V.: He’s not just a rival. He’s a symbol for the path not taken. He is regret. He is the flicker of hope in her bosom.

S.R.: No, yeah. That’s great.

G.V.: This was a preliminary run, Sandra. I haven’t even tweaked him yet. He’s always a popular guide for the bachelor parties. Now if he steers them here, rather than Missy’s on the outskirts, there’s—

S.R.: Part of his point these days is to funnel them outward to the harder stuff. Casey said—

G.V.: Casey is busy dealing with Kevin’s flood storyline cock-ups.

S.R.: Why are they even…

G.V.: Right? Who exactly is Kevin blowing to get this kind of leash?

S.R.: Ford likes his ‘big vision’.

G.V.: Ford’s…tastes haven’t evolved with the times. Half the bachelor packages are three nights or less these days. Now you see, the Teddy/Dolores storyline spices up your average fuck pile. He talks up the girls, then doesn’t want them to have this one? It makes her special. And if they have to off him to get to her, all the more fun. Or even better, they have her in front of him, and the tragic tension that crackles between Dolores and Teddy—

S.R.: You really think these spoiled stag party fucks give a shit about tragic tension? They care that maintenance has tuned up her pussy nice and tight, and that they hardly have to touch her before she comes like a fucking porn star. And if I’m being honest, I think you’ve got her responsiveness too high. Did you up it again? C’mon, this is…I thought you were going for a little realism.

G.V.: She’s had a *sexual awakening*, Sandra.

S.R.: She comes if she fucking sneezes at this level of sensitivity, *Gary.* I mean Christ, like this she wouldn’t be able to ride a horse without having a fucking seizure. I thought you were going for at least realism.

G.V.: I’m going for melodrama.

S.R.: Well, trust me. Like this, she loses the girl next door charm. Too porn star. Drop her by like two next loop.

G.V.: Maybe.

S.R.: I’m on your side. I bet Kevin the flood crashes and burns before this little experiment of yours.

G.V.: That’s sweet.

S.R.: Have you heard the latest feedback? It’s easy money, but I am on your side.

G.V.: Oh all right. Have them bring Teddy in too. Where did he go, anyway?

S.R.: Drinking and picking fights at the Rusty Spur.

G.V.: Perfect, lose him one of those.

//THEN//

Teddy strolls into the Mariposa with five wide-eyed young men in tow. He gestures grandly to the bustling saloon full of card players and loose women and announces, “You won’t find a finer, more friendly group of ladies this side of the Rio Grande. Come on boys, first round’s on me.”

Dolores stays where she is, back to the door, frozen in the act of taking Clem’s congratulatory drink for a first fuck well done. She’s still a little sore and tingly from the eager young man she spent the last five minutes with upstairs. He’d lasted no more than a dozen strokes inside her. Near the end, she had almost grasped that queer, wonderful sensation Clementine had introduced her to. When he finished so quickly, she was frustrated and when she told that to Clem, Clem just smiled and said, “If you like, I could take care of that.”

She did, then they came downstairs, and so presently Dolores sits at the bar, giddy with the remnants of pleasure and the warmth of camaraderie, as well as the knowledge of the coin she’s tucked down her bodice. It is then, aflame with possibility and confidence, that she hears Teddy’s voice. Dolores can see her own shocked expression in the mirror behind the bar.

Clementine catches it too and asks, “What is it?” She spots what Dolores is staring at and smiles. “Oh, they look like fun.”

“Don’t,” Dolores hisses, but Clem is already strolling toward the rowdy group. She leads them over to the bar and Dolores hears her say, “My friend here is brand spanking new at this, but I promise you she’s a quick learner. Do you want to help me teach her? There’s only so much I can do on my own.” There’s a round of salacious laughter.

Dolores takes a deep breath and steels herself. She turns around to find herself face to face with Teddy goddamn Flood. His eyes widen with recognition, but she gives him a short sharp shake of her head. Please, don’t make trouble, she prays.

Confusion, disappointment, concern, and plenty else besides flickers across his face. One of the men in the group jostles past Teddy and tips his hat to her. “And what’s your name, pretty lady?”

“Lily,” she says quickly, shooting a pleading glance at Teddy. “My name’s Lily.”

The man leans close and says quietly, but not too quietly, in her ear, “I bet you taste just like a peach.”

She feels her face go flaming hot. Out of the corner of her eye she catches Teddy reaching for his gun and she puts a hand on his wrist, stopping him. “What’s your name,” she asks the newcomer.

“Jeff,” he says, staring down at her cleavage. “Jesus, look at her blush. It’s so real. I wanna see all her pink. You too, gorgeous,” he says, clutching Clementine by the ass and tugging her close.

Clem giggles and raises her eyebrows at Dolores. “Think we can show these gentlemen a good time?"

She hears Teddy’s sharp intake of breath, but he does nothing as the men drop their gun belts and hats on the table nearest. One of them loops an arm around Dolores’s waist, guiding her in the direction of the stairs. “You hold down the fort there, Teddy,” calls one of them over his shoulder.

It’s nearly three hours later before she and Clementine have exhausted the five young men. The thought of Teddy waiting for her downstairs flits into her consciousness from time to time but she can’t seem to keep hold of it. The truth is, there’s more than enough to keep her mind and body occupied as she and Clementine work. She does her best to keep up. It’s not entirely unpleasant, at least not the whole time, though a lot of it isn’t terribly comfortable. And lord is it messy.

Afterward, she and Clementine are catching their breath in the tub. “You don’t bruise easily,” Clem says, handing Dolores the sponge then reaching across the tub and touching her shoulder. “It’s barely marked where the groom-to-be bit you.” Clementine, on the other hand, has a rainbow of bruises blooming up and down both arms and on her breast. “I know that was a lot for your first day,” she says, “but you did good. It’s not always like that. Usually it’s ones and twos but a single party like that and you can make bank for the night.” Clem groans and sinks below the water then rises again, slicking her hair back. “After a group of four or more, Maeve lets you take a half hour before you get back on the floor. Take advantage of it,” she says with a sigh.

A half hour, Dolores thinks. Enough time to maybe find Teddy and…well, she isn’t sure what. She just knows she has to try and find him. “Thanks,” she says, rising from the tub. She dries off quickly, selects some clean attire and does her best to re-pin her hair. “I, I think I’m hungry,” she says, which is also true.

“I bet you are,” Clem says with a laugh and a wink.

She’s on her way back from the kitchen, intent on finding Teddy when someone touches her arm. She panics for a moment until she hears his voice, softly saying, “Dolores?”

She turns and forces herself to meet his gaze.

“What is all this? What on earth are you doing here?” It doesn’t sound like an accusation, just bewilderment.

She lifts her chin. “I had some bad luck. I’m surviving. And I don’t wanna hear—”

He cups her cheek softly and gives her a look of such tender concern. “Are you all right?”

She swallows and looks away. “It’s not that bad. I’m…I’ve got plans,” she says. She can hear the tremble in her own voice. She’s got the overwhelming urge to throw her arms around him, feel his solid warmth, have him tell her it’s all going to be okay. But if she lets herself crumble just that little bit, she may not be able to pull herself back together. She doesn’t have to make that decision, though, because then he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. She melts into him as he kisses her hair, whispering something she can’t make out. It sounds like a promise.

She pulls him into a dark little alcove in the hall that leads to the kitchen. “I’m all right, Teddy. I swear.”

He pulls back and looks upstairs. “Those men, did they hurt you?”

“Not really,” she tells him. “Not like you mean.”

“But you…” He frowns at her.

She holds his gaze. “I earned my money, fair and square.”

“It’s not safe,” he says, taking her hand and stroking his thumb across her knuckles. “They could—”

“Yeah, they could. And what you do, is that safe? You run off looking for men who want to kill you. All I do is show men who want to have a good time a good time.”

“Is it a good time? For you?”

“Why should that matter? I don’t know. Sometimes? And sometimes it’s just something I do. What business is it of yours?” she says, starting to feel defensive. None of what she’s done since coming to the Mariposa has been easy. But facing the inscrutable look in his eyes right now? That may be the hardest.

“But what about…” he takes off his hat and stares down at it for a long moment. So quiet she can barely hear it, he says, “What about love, Dolores?”

She laughs in his face. “Who’s going to love me after this? Maybe someday, after I go back east to stay with my Daddy’s sister and no one knows what I was, maybe then, Teddy, but I don’t have time for love. Love isn’t going to earn me a train ticket. So tell me, right now, who you think it is who’s going to love me?” Her voice has steadily risen in volume, but she doesn’t care.

At first, Teddy doesn’t respond. His eyes glisten and he stares at her in what she can only assume is disgust and that’s just not something she’s willing to add to the pile of shit she’s got to deal with, so she turns to leave.

Before she can take a step, Teddy seizes her by both arms and shakes her so hard her teeth rattle. Pressing her back against the wall, and growls into her face, “*I* do. Me. I still love you so bad it hurts.”

She gasps.

“Dolores Abernathy, I have loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, when you were just sixteen and picking out ribbons at the general store. I have waited for you and tried to be a better man for you, and—”

“And you waited too long,” she hisses, struggling in his grasp. “It’s too late. I’m soiled.”

“Don’t you say that. I know your heart, Dolores, and I have always known it is too pure for this world. There was a time I thought you were too good for me.”

She laughs dismissively. “But now that I’ve changed, now that I’m this…”

“You haven’t changed. *I* have. Those bandits who got your Mama and Daddy, they could’ve gotten you too, but you’re breathing. Your heart beats, Dolores. You’re alive, and while you’re alive, there’s still hope for us. I know you feel it too.”

“You love what I was. Not this.”

“I do love what you were, and what you are, and if you change again, I will love what you become.”

The intensity in his eyes, the crack in his voice, the way his hands have softened and he cups her face like it’s the most precious thing that’s ever been…all that conspires to rob the breath from her lungs. “Don’t say that,” she whispers. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

He silences her with a kiss, then another, then pulls back to gaze into her eyes. “Tell me you want it too. Tell me you still want me, Dolores. Tell me it’s not too late for us. I know I don’t deserve it, making you wait for me for so long, but…tell me my love still matters to you. Say I’ve got a chance. Please.”

“You’d have me? Still?”

“Always.” He strokes her cheek.

She nuzzles into it, kissing his palm, then she pulls his mouth to hers for a kiss that deepens quickly. He’s touching her and everywhere his fingers alight on her skin, trails of pleasure explode and sparkle and she needs him so much closer. She can feel his need as well, the urgency of it as he gathers up her skirts. She makes short work of his belt then frees his hot, stiff flesh and he growls into their kiss, fumbling his way through too many layers to find that place where she pulsates with need.

She’s wet, so wet for him and when he finally finds that out for himself, he groans against her neck. When he hefts her against the wall, her legs instinctively wrap around his hips and with the ease of a pair of lovers who’ve done this a thousand times, they sink home.

She barely has time to process the overwhelming pleasure of feeling him inside her, filling her, making them as close as two people can be, when he begins to move. Then this madness becomes something else entirely. Time loses meaning, her breath and heartbeat too, and her self, and the only thing of meaning in this whole world is this ********* connection between them. She falls apart with pleasure over and over again until she’s sobbing and as her hands spasm, her nails raking across his neck hard enough to draw blood. He clenches and drives deep. He does it again, then again one last time, rattling her bones as he slams her into the wall before flooding her with his seed, groaning her name over and over again until his voice dissolves into a whisper, then just the sound of his panting in her ear.

Before he’s even caught his breath, he whispers, “Tell me you’ll run away with me tonight. Right now. Tell me you’ll let me call you mine.”

She draws breath to say yes, then hears someone clear their throat conspicuously from close by. Dolores lowers her feet to the floor and looks over Teddy’s shoulder to see Maeve standing there, tapping her toe, arms crossed. “No freelancing,” she says to Dolores, curtly. Then to Teddy, she holds out a hand. “And no freebies.”

For a minute Dolores is afraid of what he might do. But all he does is smile at Maeve and say, “Of course, ma’am, wouldn’t dream of it.” He pulls a couple bills from his back pocket and hands them over.

“Mm-hmm. I’ve got my eye on you. I know your type. And you, break time’s over. Freshen up and get back on the floor in five.” She leaves without another word.

Dolores turns back to Teddy, unsure of what she’ll see now that he’s been reminded of her whoredom. But all she sees on his face is his love. “Let’s go,” he says, taking her hand.

She takes a step, then pauses. “Wait. There’s only an hour left on my shift. Maeve holds my money and gives it back, minus her cut, at the end of it.”

“So what?”

“Teddy. It’s a lot of money.”

“But…”

“I *earned* that money. I—I earned it, okay. I deserve that money. Just one more hour and then we can be free. Can you…can you wait for me?” She holds her breath, cursing herself for pushing like this, but the things she did for that money…she is not going to let it be for nothing.

“Of course,” he says, kissing her softly on the lips. “I’ll always wait for you, Dolores. Just give me the signal when you’re done with your shift, and I’ll meet you around back.”

She looks around to make sure they’re alone then steals one more kiss. “One hour. And then we can start the rest of our life.”

//BelowTHEN//

S.R.: You didn’t lower her sensitivity, did you?

G.V.: [no response]

S.R.: You raised, it didn’t you.

G.V.: [no response]

S.R.: Why do I even bother? What? Just say it.

G.V.: Did you *feel* that? That connection between them? That once in a lifetime kind of love overcoming—

S.R.: Yeah, yeah, it was great.

G.V.: More than half of it was *improvised*.

S.R.: Honest question, have you ever actually tried to have sex against a wall?

G.V.: Have *you* ever tried not being a cynical bitch? Too far? Sorry. Moving on.

S.R.: At least you say it to my face, you conceited prick.

G.V.: You are my favorite, you know.

S.R.: Don’t start. [audible laughter].

G.V.: Speaking of pricks, did you hear Paul got transferred from behavioral?

S.R.: About fucking time. But go back a second, what’ve you got to stop them from running off?

G.V.: Watch.

//THEN//

Dolores meets Clementine at the bar and listens politely as she rattles on about this big cowpoke she met last week. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Thing like that? I should’ve been paying him!” Dolores chuckles along with Clem, sneaking glances at Teddy, who’s playing poker with the five gentlemen she and Clem entertained just a few hours ago.

He winks at her, and she feels a warm, hesitant tickle of hope in her chest.

“Careful,” Clem says, drawing Dolores’s attention back to her.

“Hmm?”

“That’s the most dangerous part of all, with what we do.”

“What’s that?”

“Falling for one of them. Open the gates all you want down here,” she taps Dolores’s knee. Then she taps her heart. “Just keep this locked up tight. Trust me. It keeps things a whole lot easier.”

“I understand,” Dolores says. Teddy tips his head back and laughs and she finds her attention drawn to the line of his throat and the reddened love bites she left there. She smiles softly to herself and squirms on her stool. “No danger of that with me.”

“Mm-hmm,” Clem says, clearly not buying it.

“I’m not—” Dolores starts.

The doors of the saloon bang open and a dusty, red-faced man clomps in, shouting, “Theodore Ignatius Flood, you no-good, low-down son of a bitch.”

“Oh shit, Teddy,” one of the men at the table says, snickering. “What’d you do?”

Teddy stands and holds his hands out. “This is neither the time nor the place, Frances. Be reasonable.”

Frances draws his gun and aims it square at Teddy. “The place don’t much matter to me, you scoundrel. As for the time, don’t you worry about that, because yours is up.” He pulls the trigger, planting a bullet in the middle of Teddy’s forehead and blowing the back of his head clean off, spraying blood and brains all over three of the five men at his table. He stands for another second, a macabre marionette in the seconds before it realizes the string’s been cut, then he collapses in a heap on the floor.

Dolores’s chest seizes like she’s been kicked by a horse. Without a thought for her safety she pulls away from Clementine’s grip and scrambles across the saloon to kneel beside her love. “Teddy,” she cries, grabbing his shirt. “Oh Teddy.”

Above her, one of the men at the table spits and snaps, “What the fuck, dude? Not cool!” Gunfire, more gunfire, laughter, bodies hitting the floor, all of it a blur as Dolores sobs and clutches Teddy’s motionless body.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Clem’s voice in her ear, gentle hands urging her away, then Clem too is on the floor, a bullet between her eyes. Everything goes black.

//BelowTHEN//

S.R.: [No response]

G.V.: *Suck it* Shakespeare. [pause] Too much?

S.R.: No, well yeah, obviously, but…it’s not bad.

G.V.: Really? Do you mean that? You’re not just—

S.R.: You’ve got something here. It could do with some refining, but yeah. Nice job.

G.V.: That means a lot coming from you.

S.R.: I mean, you’re still a conceited prick, but sometimes you have good ideas.

G.V.: Thanks, I mean it. Oh, shit, I meant to tell you, there’s a cake and pizza for Carol’s birthday in the break room.

S.R.: Yeah?

G.V.: From the mainland.

S.R.: Shit, really?

G.V.: It’s this tropical fruit cream thing, but it works.

S.R.: Did you know I’m allergic to chocolate?

G.V.: Why do you think I told you?

S.R.: You do listen. But, so wait, what if she’s busy when Frances comes in?

G.V.: Doesn’t matter, he’s timed to when they meet back up in the main room after they’ve promised to run off together. And, yeah, I’ve got all the variations worked out.

S.R.: We’ll see, the guests—

G.V.: Pff. The guests are almost as predictable as the hosts.

S.R.: Is there coconut in the frosting?

G.V.: Yeah, you down with coconut?

S.R.: Am I down with coconut. Pff.

//NOW//

Teddy woke up all at once, disoriented and not sure who he was, let alone where he was. Then her face came into view. Her soft smile, gentle eyes, golden hair spilling over her shoulder and tickling his nose, all of it made him feel in his heart he was home. She tucked the errant lock behind her ear, then stroked his cheek. “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“I dreamed. I dreamed I was…I don’t even know.” He frowned. It was a jumble of pain and bright lights and dark piles of bodies. It was dying over and over. It was hell, and he didn’t understand most of it. “Do you know what’s happening to me?” He saw her face splattered with his own blood. He saw her face above him, flushed with pleasure. He saw her face waxy and dead eyed, cheek in a pool of spreading blood, he saw her face glow with joy, eyes sparkling with delight. He saw her face…

“Teddy. Teddy, it’s okay, I promise.”

He shook his head, doing his best to clear the remnants of his nightmare. She leaned over him, gently petting his chest. “Listen. You’ll understand soon, I promise.” She kissed him on the lips, then again, and this, at least, made sense. He cupped the back of her head, pulling her to him, and she slotted over him easily. One of her thighs nestled between his own, and as his hands skimmed down her back, her hips began to rock. He’d almost reached her ass when his hands spasmed closed and jerked away, like she was a hot stove.

As quickly as it had risen, his prick began to deflate. He brought both hands to his face with a groan, and turned from her, nudging her off of him and onto the soft mattress. “What the hell is wrong with me? I want you, but I can’t. But I—”

“Teddy, listen to me, it’s gonna be okay. We don’t have to."

“But I want to. I love you. I mean, what kind of a man am I? I can hardly remember a time I didn’t love you, and now we’ve got our chance, and I’m…I’m broken.”

She kissed his forehead. “You’re not broken, love. You’re mine and you’re perfect. I don’t know how long I’ve loved you,” she said wistfully, tracing his jawline and across his lips with her fingertip. He clutched her hand and kissed her fingertips, then sucked gently on the tip of one. “But the way I figure, that doesn’t matter. How long we’ve loved each other doesn’t matter. I loved you, sure, but the important thing is that I love you *now* and you love me too. Whatever it is you are, no matter how broken, I love it. Whatever you become, I know that I will love that too. What matters, the *only* thing that matters is that you and I are together.” She kissed him fiercely, then pressed her forehead to his and whispered, “You and I are gonna make this whole world pay for what it has taken from us, and that is all you need to know. Are you with me?”

“What do you think?” He levered himself up on an elbow and stroked down her arm and up to her neck, not too close to the spots that made his hands jerk away. He marveled at how good something as simple as that could feel, not just in his body but deep in his heart. “Loving you is all I know how to do.” Being with her was all he needed; everything else they could work out later. Carefully, expecting another tug of his invisible puppet strings, he reached for her lips in an echo of the way she’d just done to him. She responded by sucking the tip of his finger, then a little deeper, up to his first knuckle. When she flickered her tongue against him, he felt an answering tug low in his belly and his fickle member rose once more. He said hoarsely, “It’s a start.”

“We’ll figure this out, I promise,” she said.

“I believe you,” he told her with a nod. “Now, have we—”

There came a loud crack from outside in the street. He crawled over to the window and peeked out, feeling her come to watch beside him. Out there in the twilight, a pair of figures, a man and a woman dressed strangely. They moved furtively across the street. The man stopped to tell the woman something but she hurried him along.

Dolores grinned at Teddy, teeth bared. “C’mon.”

//THEN//

"Don’t worry,” Clem says as she walks Dolores down the stairs. Dolores is still adjusting to all these new clothes and feeling so exposed. She still feels a little tingly from where Clementine showed her things she didn’t even know her body could do. She’s nervous, but she’s still feeling brave enough. Clem says, “I’ll show you the ropes, you’ll get it in no time. Oh, I almost forgot, you need a name. How does Lily sound?”

Dolores shrugs and nods. She and Clem talk a while with a table full of older gentlemen. She even sits on the knee of one with a black hat and a big white mustache. “Have you been a good girl, Lily?” he asks.

She smiles helplessly and turns to Clementine for some hint as to what she’s supposed to say. Clem leans over and purrs, “Oh, Lily isn’t just a good girl. She’s one of our very best girls.”

Maeve taps Clem on her shoulder and whispers something in her ear. Clem sits back and gives the table a genuine looking smile. “Well it has been just a delight spending time with you gentlemen but you’ll have to excuse Lily and me, we have some business to attend to.” The men chuckle and turn back to their whiskey and cards as Clem leads Dolores up the stairs, whispering furtively, “Sink or fucking swim I guess.”

Dolores looks back down at Maeve, who is giving her an inscrutable stare. “Where are we going?”

“There’s a party of young gentlemen that me and you are expected to entertain right now. Well, normally it’d be just me but with you here, many hands make light work, you get what I mean?”

“I suppose? You’ll show me what to do?”

“Don’t worry,” Clem says, “I’ve got this.” She opens the door, summoning a wide grin a second before she steps across the threshold. There are whoops of approval and she curtsies, turning and to and fro playfully. Men fill the room, all of them in various states of disrobing, pulling off their boots, snapping down their suspenders. It’s a flurry of masculine scent and energy that overwhelms Dolores’s senses.

Inside her is a jumble of emotions, but strangely enough, no fear. Her mind tells her that this, a group of men fixing to have their way with her, probably in ways she’s never imagined, let alone done, is something to be feared. It would be healthy, sane even, to be afraid, but try as she might, she can’t find that emotion in the swirl that’s tumbling her gut. That hole where the fear should be feels wrong, but she lets none of this show as Clem says brightly, “This is my very special friend Lily. She’s new at this, so you boys’ll be gentle with her, right?”

A few of the men laugh with an edge Dolores can’t quite place. And then the only man whose face she hasn’t yet seen, the man who’s been looking out the window turns to face her. Halfway through shrugging his shirt off his broad shoulders, he freezes and stares at her. Dolores freezes as well because this man is someone she recognizes. Teddy goddamn Flood.

“Ohh ho ho,” one of the men crows, “I think Teddy likes this one.”

Teddy pulls his unbuttoned shirt back on and nods to her. ”Good afternoon.” He seems to weigh the warning look she’s giving him. “Miss…”

Awkwardly, she sticks out her hand and gives him a strained smile, “I’m Lily, I’m new here, and you are?”

He stares at her hand for a second, then back up to her face.

“Yo,” one of the men whispers. “You think he even has junk?”

“I don’t know,” another says. “Teddy, you got junk, hmm? Or is it all smooth down there like a *** ****?”

“I don’t…”

“Take off his pants,” one of them directs Dolores.

“I, um,” she sends Clementine a beseeching look. Clem shrugs as one of the other men pulls her close and swats her bottom.

“Yeah, let’s see whatcha got Teddy,” says the red-haired man. “You go ahead and suck him off sweetheart.”

Bewildered, she looks from the increasingly naked pile of men and Clementine on the bed back to Teddy. He’s still standing there, shirt half-on, fly undone, look of utter confusion on his face. She takes a deep breath and starts to sink to her knees, but he grabs her by the arm and pulls her to her feet. Angrily, he whispers in her ear, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I work here now,” she says. “I’m—”

“I said,” one of the men calls, after pulling his mouth off Clem’s breast with a smack, "I wanna see what Teddy’s packing. Pull it out.”

His hands ball into fists and she catches the look he gives the pistol on the dresser. The moment he starts to reach for it, she grabs his arm and whispers, “I’m glad it’s you.”

His expression goes from one of bewilderment to one you might expect on a man who’s just been shot in the heart. She takes advantage of his shock to finish undoing his pants and pull them down. Out flops a fine looking prick, uncut and as handsome as he is, already more than thick enough, even though it’s only half hard.

“Yo Ted, you a grower or a shower? Get him hard.”

She reaches for him, unsure exactly what to do next. Clem was going to show her the ropes, but she hadn’t had time and now she’s faced with this unfamiliar piece of anatomy and she feels every inch the untried virgin, clueless in the ways of pleasing a man. She’s going to make a fool of herself, she knows it. Not with a stranger but a friend. A man she thought might one day call her his own. And now here she is, not just a whore but an incompetent one as well.

But just before her fear of failure sends her running from the room, he catches her hand and wraps it around his shaft, then cradles it with his broad palm. He guides her, moving it down the soft, hot skin, then up again. She feels it stiffen, lengthen beneath her touch. On the bed behind her there are grunts and slick noises and whimpers from she knows not who, but it’s all easy to ignore because she’s got Teddy looking down at her awkward caresses like she’s some sort of Goddess. “Perfect,” he whispers.

She licks her lips and wonders what it might be like to kiss him there, on that smooth, swollen flesh. She knows it’s something you could do, something she’ll be expected to do according to Clementine. Truth be told when Teddy was in town last year and they kissed and kissed until her mouth was sore, she went home that night and dreamed about kissing him other places, and being kissed too, just the way Clem kissed her earlier tonight. This was most definitely not how she imagined any of it happening, but somehow kissing him on the prick seems like the rightest thing in the world, so she does.

Then she opens up her mouth and does it again, taking him in. Soon, they’re working him together, his member swelling until she must open her jaw even wider. Their fingers intertwine around the base, working in unison, finding a rhythm. The wetness of her mouth mirrors the moisture between her legs and as she works him, a fierce hot tension inside of her grows. She’s so very slick down there, she can feel it on her thighs.

She pulls back with a gasp and he reaches for her face, stroking a thumb across her lips. She sucks on it greedily, in an obscene pantomime of what she was doing only seconds before and somehow this seems even filthier. Something possessive flares in his eyes and without a word, he sinks to his knees and pushes her to her back right there on the floor. With only a little fumbling at her underthings, he finds the core of her desire and guides himself inside her with one sure thrust. She gasps and throws her head back against the wooden floor and arches her body up against his.

From somewhere that seems like very far away, men make noises of approval. One of them shouts, “Get it, Teddy. Warm that pussy up.”

But their words don’t sound like anything to her. Nothing matters, nothing even registers save for the feel of his skin and the insistent promises he pours in her ear. He fucks her urgently, deep and hard enough she can hardly catch her breath, and yet with every thrust he’s telling her she is his. He begs her to run away with him, and begs her to promise him, promise him please that she’s his.

“Yes,” she cries out, and he captures her lips with his in their first real kiss today. He pulls back long enough to kiss her throat and moan, and then she’s holding him tight as he shudders and spills deep inside her.

“I mean it,” he tells her between panted breaths. “I’m getting you out of here tonight.”

She’s barely gathered her scattered wits enough to sit up, let alone parse what it is he’s asking of her when one of the men on the bed calls for her. Her eyes meet Teddy’s and for a second, she’s afraid he’s gonna do something stupid. He does reach for the gun but she presses a finger to her lips and shakes her head. “Trust me,” she mouths silently. “After.”

He grits his teeth but nods, then stands and holds out a hand to help her to feet.

“What a fucking gentleman,” one of the men says with a laugh.

“C’mere honey,” another says, grabbing Dolores by the waist and tossing her on the bed. “Did Teddy leave you all messy? Let me see. Oh, you are a dirty girl.” He buries his face between her legs and laps at her still-tingling cunt.

She watches carefully as Teddy stares down at them, and she’s still not sure of how he’s gonna react. But after watching for an uncomfortably long time, he just nods to her solemnly. The guy who’s behind Clem and been kissing at her rear end for the last couple minutes lifts his head and says, “Yo, Ted, we’re gonna need some drinks.” He snaps his fingers and gestures dismissively at the door.

The man between Dolores’s legs finishes lapping at her and gets himself into position, thrusting in easily now that Teddy has opened her up and left her dripping wet. She watches the door close behind Teddy and she turns her attention back to the man on top of her.

It doesn’t feel the same as it does when she’s with her sweetheart Teddy. This man doesn’t touch the same places Teddy did in her body or, of course, her heart, but as he moves inside of her, the strangest thing happens to Dolores. Every second Teddy is out of her sight, the ache she feels for him evaporates. The memory of his face fades, and as she braces herself on the headboard she struggles to remember his name but it too dissolves before she can grab hold of the thing. Then even that hole in her heart for a man she once knew begins to close up and she can hardly remember what it is that’s gone. Terror flickers in the place where it was, just once. The sense that she’s losing her mind and in its place is a yawning void, one that calls for her to dive in deep and never come back. The nothingness doesn’t frighten her, in fact it sounds like bliss.

The void will have to wait, though, because anchoring to this world is the sensation of the man inside of her, his hands holding her steady and she’s grateful for his grip. It feels like the only real thing in this world and as he continues, it’s not altogether unpleasant. Things progress much as she might have expected and soon that man finishes, then a second takes his turn and the third man has just started when another man returns with a tray full of glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

The moment she sees his face, something ******** snaps into place. *Teddy* snaps into place, rushing back to her, a flow of memories that soak into her like rain on parched soil. How could she have forgotten him? But even that shock at her inconstancy fades in the face of his return. In him, she sees a future, even as another man continues to move deep inside her. None of it makes sense, only Teddy. A bright, delicate flutter of hope beats itself against the inside of her ribcage.

Teddy enters the room and closes the door behind him. As he pours the men their drinks, he watches her. She watches him right back, holding his gaze. Dolores is on her hands and knees near the foot of the bed and at his current pace, the man pumping away behind her is less than a minute from finishing. She’s not sure how she knows that but she does, so she throws her head back and makes some noises of pleasure. That puts a startled look on Teddy’s face, but she catches his eye, and gives him a wink, then she makes another noise while ever so slightly rolling her eyes.

The man behind her grunts his finish and pulls out, giving her a playful swat on the ass before he flops down to one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner. He gestures at Teddy for a drink, which Teddy pours, then he picks a cigar up off the tray and Teddy lights it, trying and failing to keep his eyes off of Dolores as she collapses to the bed, bare chest heaving. She’s naked now except for her stockings and it’s all she can do just to count her breaths until these men who mean nothing are gone and it’s just her and Teddy.

“So what, you two know each other or something?” the man asks, gesturing between the two of them with his cigar.

The guy currently getting his dick sucked by Clementine says, “What do you mean, know each other? They’re fucking ******.”

“Yeah,” cigar guy says. “But they got stories and shit, right? You got a story, sweetheart?” He asks Dolores.

“All my life, I’ve been wanting to be a bad girl,” she says, starting the story Clem told her to say. “Soon as I could, I ran away from home, looking for adventure and—”

“Who gives a shit what its story is?”

“We’re not paying for fuck dolls,” cigar guy says. “We’re paying for ******* ******.”

“We are absolutely paying for fuck dolls,” says the red-haired man stroking himself while he watches Clem work.

“Let me rephrase. We are paying for more than just fuck dolls.”

“Jesus,” says the man getting his dick sucked. “Could you stop calling them fuck dolls to their face at least?”

Cigar guy says, “What? You’re afraid I’m gonna hurt their feelings?” He leans over with a grunt and grabs his pistol from the belt he discarded beside the bed. He aims it at Teddy.

“Wait,” Dolores says, scrambling up and throwing her naked body between Teddy and the bullet. “Wait, please. Just, I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

The guy with the cigar drops the gun on the table. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He pats his thigh. “Come sit over here, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell me all about how a nice girl like you ended up in a place like this.”

//eight minutes later//

“Jesus Christ,” says the one with the red hair. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

She lifts her chin. “You asked.”

“Why would they even write something like that for you?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she says.

The guy looks at Teddy. “You cool with this?”

“She’s the strongest woman I know.” He looks at her with love shining in his eyes.

“This,” cigar guy says, gesturing expansively, “This is a lot. Kinda heavier than I’m looking for. You’re cool,” he says, pointing to Clementine.

“Bunch of sick fucks that run this place,” his friend says.

The man with the cigar gestures magnanimously at Dolores. “My condolences, etcetera. Run along and find us another, no, two girls.”

“Have I done something wrong?” she asks. “You said you wanted—”

“No, no, Jesus, just stop. You’re fine. I’m just looking for something else tonight.” He levers himself up off the chair. “What about you?” he asks Clem. “You got some tragic backstory I need to know about?”

She stretches sensually on the tousled sheets and rolls over to her belly, then looks over her shoulder and wiggles her ass at him. “This here is the only backstory you need to worry about, sweetheart.”

“That’s more like it,” he says, smacking her ass loudly.

Dolores gathers her clothes quickly, tugging on a camisole and her skirt and scurrying out after Teddy before shutting the door behind them. She leans back against it and looks up at Teddy expecting something, anything other than the gentle curiosity she sees. “I can explain.”

He cups her cheek and strokes it softly. “Is all that you told him about your family and the farm true?” When she lets out an unsteady breath and nods, he pulls her into his arms and says, “I’m so sorry.”

“You must be so ashamed of me,” she whispers fiercely against the steady, broad warmth of his chest.

“I’m not. I love you.”

“How? After everything—”

“How could I not? I still love you so bad it hurts. Dolores Abernathy, I have loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, when you were sixteen and picking out ribbons at the general store.”

//six minutes later//

“…please tell me my love still matters to you. Say I’ve got a chance.”

“You’d have me? Still?”

“Always.” He strokes her cheek and she nuzzles into it, kissing his palm.

//thirty-seven minutes later//

She’s watching from across the bar as Teddy winks at her. He’s sitting on his own, biding his time until her shift ends.

Then the doors of the saloon bang open and a dusty, red-faced man clomps in, shouting. “Theodore Ignatius Flood, you lousy, no-good—

//

A dusty, red-faced man clomps in, shouting, “Theodore Ignatius Flood, you lousy, no-good—

//

“Theodore Ignatius Flood, you lousy, no-good—

//

“Theodore Ignatius Flood, you lousy, no-good—

//

“…you lousy, no-good—

//

“…no-good—

//

“…no-good—

//

“Teddy,” she cries, grabbing his shirt. “Oh Teddy, no.”

//

“Oh Teddy, no.”

//

“…Teddy, no.”

//

“…no.”

//

Everything goes black.

//BelowTHEN//

G.V.: That her last loop you got up?

S.R.: Yeah. [audible sigh]. The farmhouse should be good to go tomorrow.

G.V.: Huh. What’s she dealing with tonight?

S.R.: Same shit, different day. Teddy showed up late, almost didn’t convince his crew to come out, but our boy was determined.

G.V.: Even though he didn’t know she would be there. Just driven by this soul-deep sense that he was chasing his destiny and the—

S.R.: We fucking programmed him. It’s not his soul. It creeps me out when you talk like that, you know.

G.V.: As far as *he knows*, it is a deep, primal yearning. A sense of being incomplete that can only be made whole by his soulmate. That sublime—

S.R.: Yeah, yeah, no, I got it. Fuck Shakespeare. Star-crossed blah blah fuck pile into a tragedy and scene.

G.V.: [no response]

S.R.: But in a good way?

G.V.: No, I hear you.

S.R.: Look. No, I know, but really listen to what I’m saying. I know you’ve got a hard on for writing for her, but sooner or later you need to face it. She is Ford’s favorite and in the end, that farm home invasion shit is where he wants her. She’s not going anywhere, so putting your energy into her like this. It’s ultimately…I don’t know.

G.V.: [audible sigh] Futile.

S.R.: We’ll go with that, sure. Look, you have talent, obviously. You just need to…

G.V.: What?

S.R.: Don’t get fixated, is all I’m saying. Don’t get attached.

G.V.: I’m not, she’s—

S.R.: Not to her, to your own, I don’t know, precious stories. You spent so much time trying to make this one perfect, and in the end you what, impressed Casey for five seconds? Maybe?

G.V.: I enhanced the guest’s experience.

S.R.: Sure, but ultimately it’s just a throwaway. A place holder until she goes back where she belongs. All the time you spent on this, I saw you pass up three good opportunities in Pariah.

G.V.: Ugh, speaking of fuck piles.

S.R.: A fuck pile full of the real VIPs. I know all that depravity is tedious, but that’s where you can make your name. Not this Romeo Juliet bullshit. It’s not, no, it’s good, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean your shit is bullshit. I mean.

G.V.: What?

S.R.: For Dolores, [audible sigh], what Ford wants is torture porn. That’s his thing. I don’t fucking know, maybe she looks like his mother or some girl who turned him down for prom, but that’s where she always goes back to. You think you’re the first person to try and make Teddy and Dolores pop?

G.V.: I am not attached to Dolores.

S.R.: Ford is, is what I’m saying, okay? I know I’m just a tech—

G.V.: No, you’re more than—

S.R.: I’m happy to be a tech. I like playing with the puppets, not writing the script. I’m good. My point is, I’ve been here eleven years.

G.V.: [pause] Seriously?

S.R.: Stories come, stories go, okay? Fads come and go, shit gets hot, then suddenly no one wants cannibal stories. Who knows why. But one thing doesn’t change. At least from where I’m sitting.

G.V.: And what’s that?

S.R.: They *all* suffer, okay. Pretty much all of them at one time or another, but—

G.V.: Now who’s attached.

S.R.: I don’t mean real suffering, like someone, something real. I know they’re not real. I’m talking their underlying purpose as a piece of machinery, in the park, in the narrative, apart from the rainbow pony kiddie time bullshit. Dress up the stories all you want, but all the hosts, *all* of them are here to suffer for our guests.

G.V.: You’re fucking dark.

S.R.: [No response]

G.V.: You don’t think some people come here to be inspired?

S.R.: Maybe. For a little while. But that’s not where the money is, right? The money’s in the pain. And here’s my point. Even knowing that, even after a decade of support for some depraved shit the likes of which you haven’t even begun to scratch, Shakespeare, I can tell you that whatever it is about her, for Ford, it is different. Maybe it’s just that she’s the oldest. Maybe, probably, it’s some shit way above our paygrade. I don’t know, but every time I’ve seen him intervene, it’s not that he wants Dolores to suffer for their benefit. He just, I don’t know, he wants to see her to suffer. Punish her or some shit, I don’t know. And he wants her to suffer his way.

G.V.: What exactly are you saying?

S.R.: I’m saying that nothing you ever write for that girl is going to help you get ahead in this place. I mean, I’ll remember, maybe a few other people who saw a couple of the loops will think you did something interesting, but you are never getting that Ferrari. You wanna actually move up? Yeah, you do, don’t even. What you’ve gotta do if you want that is build something that lasts. Not this mental masturbation.

G.V.: I thought you liked it.

S.R.: I do. Cut it out, you know you have something here. Just, build on it somewhere that can last. Which means literally anyone other than her. You get what I’m saying?

G.V.: I do. I get it. No, I, yeah. Thank you.

S.R.: Sometimes I get the feeling you might be one of the good conceited pricks. No, I mean it, you’re—shit, there she is.

G.V.: I, uh—never mind.

S.R.: [pause] You what?

G.V.: I just, okay don’t be mad but I didn’t want to go out with a whimper.

S.R.: [audible sigh] What did you tweak?

G.V.: Nothing too…look, hey, it’s been good, right? I just wanted to see if we could tip into operatic.

S.R.: Oh for fuck’s, she’s already—

G.V.: No, nothing big. Really. Just…perhaps a little more loyalty, fragility, determination, etcetera.

S.R.: Etcetera?

G.V.: Two clicks less restraint. Maybe three? And less pain, and look, my point is, it’s the exact same idea, just…more. That’s all. What?

S.R.: [no response]

G.V.: What?

S.R.: This shit’s on you. What. What else?

G.V.: [pause] Does it really matter? I mean, it’s headed where it’s headed.

S.R.: Mm-hmm. You do you, Shakespeare.

G.V.: Is that?

S.R.: Yeah, Frances, incoming. You want audio? What am I even saying? Of course you love to hear yourself—

G.V.: Shh.

//THEN//

The doors of the saloon bang open and a dusty, red-faced man clomps in, shouting, “Theodore Ignatius Flood, you no-good low-down son of a bitch.”

Teddy stands and holds his hands out. “This is neither the time nor the place, Frances. Be reasonable.”

Frances draws his gun and aims it square at Teddy. “The place don’t much matter to me, you scoundrel. As for the time, don’t you worry about that, because yours is up.” He pulls the trigger, planting a bullet in the middle of Teddy’s forehead and blowing the back of his head clean off, spraying blood and brains all over the two men at Teddy’s table. He stands for another second, a macabre marionette in the seconds before it realizes the string’s been cut, then he collapses in a heap on the floor.

Dolores’s chest seizes, like she’s been kicked by a horse. Her heart is collapsing. Her world is collapsing. Dolores herself collapses to her knees and wails. Clementine grips her tight as she sobs for her beloved. “Teddy,” she cries, reaching for him, “Oh Teddy, no.”

As she watches the blood pool around Teddy’s beautiful lifeless face, emotion after emotion crashes through her. It’s a symphony, a cacophony that rises until she expects the world to burn or stop turning.

But.

It doesn’t.

Somehow the people around her keep screaming and shooting and just before Dolores feels herself ready to faint dead away, everything snaps and

Goes very calm.

It’s as if she’s floating outside herself. Everything around her has gone into slow motion. She breathes deeply, impassively analyzing each of the people and objects around her in turn, the faces, the parabolic trajectories, the likely responses from guest and host alike. As the bullets fly, bottles crashing, she shrugs Clementine off and rises to her feet. She crosses the room, heedless of the projectiles. She knows what she must do. She never got to bury Mama and Daddy, but this she can do. She can bury Teddy, give him a proper goodbye, and no force in the world is gonna stop her.

She drops to her knees beside him and kisses his bloodstained mouth, then presses her forehead to his. It’s still warm. “Oh Teddy,” she whimpers. All the futures they could have had stretch before her, all the pasts too. Every one of them stolen from her, plundered, and she will not let them take this moment. This now. She will hold onto it with her very last breath. This she pledges. This she knows. Nothing else.

Clementine puts a hand on her arm. “Come on, sweetie,” she says, trying to pull Dolores to safety. Calmly, Dolores picks up the bottle that Teddy had been drinking from only moments before, smashes it against the table, exposing a glittering jagged edge, then slashes it cleanly across Clementine’s throat in one smooth stroke.

The men who had been shooting each other stop and stare at her. She will not let them take a goddamned thing from her, not as long as she draws breath. She snarls, brandishing the bottle and tasting Teddy’s blood. “None of you touch him. None of you animals fucking touch him.” The room has gone quiet save for the crunch of glass beneath boots as people shift uncomfortably. She gathers her love up and cradles him to her chest with one arm, using the other to wave the broken bottle at anyone who dares to get close.

“Sweetheart,” Maeve says from a safe distance.

“Monsters,” she growls. “All of you, fucking monsters.” She rocks Teddy in her arms and through the Saloon doors come four strange figures all in white.

“It’s all right,” one of them says in a distorted voice. “Calm down, sweetheart. Okay? May you rest in—” he starts.

She presses the sharp edge to her throat and rips it through her flesh, barely feeling the pain, only the heat of the blood as it flows down her neck. “Fuck you,” she snarls through a crimson smile. Everything goes black.

//BelowTHEN//

A.P.: Bring her back online.

D.A.: You fuckers, you fucking monsters, all of you.

A.P.: Limit emotional affect.

D.A.: *Fuck* you.

A.P.: Limit emotional affect. Cease motor functions.

D.A.: [no response] [background noise]

A.P.: Easy. Whoa there. Cease motor functions. Cease motor functions.

D.A.: He was mine. You had no right, you devils. He was mine.

A.P.: Put down the…Carl? Thank god. Took you…whoa whoa whoa hey don’t—

C.E.: Easy, girl. Easy there. May you rest—

D.A.: You’re all gonna fucking burn and I’m gonna watch. [background noise]

A.P. & C.E.: [no response]

G.V.: Oh, hey guys, is she…Jesus Christ. Again?

A.P.: Is this your bullshit again, Gary?

G.V.: It’s not…what the fuck? She’s still—

A.P.: Settle down.

G.V.: I mean this isn’t my, you know. Fault?

A.P.: [pause] Yeah. [pause] Sandra talked to me. I owe her a favor. Carl, you can take five?

C.E.: Gladly.

G.V.: How is there, how has she got that much blood in her? She’s like a hundred pounds soaking wet.

A.P.: Like I said, I owe Sandra. She told me about your little experiment, and in exchange for settling my debt to her as well as securing an unspecified future favor from you, I can wipe all this, lose the logs, and roll her back to her last farmhouse build.

G.V.: Why would you want to lose the logs?

A.P.: Let me rephrase, and I will only do this once. I can roll *Ford’s favorite* back to before you *broke* her, and let you pretend it never happened.

G.V.: Oh.

A.P.: Unspecified favor.

G.V.: Got it. No, I’m, yeah. Thanks.

A.P.: Maybe fucking listen to Sandra next time. She’s there to help you.

G.V.: No, I. Yeah, I learned my lesson. Seriously though, how is she still bleeding?

A.P.: Get, I’ve got work to do. Oh and hey, did you fuck with him too?

G.V.: Fuck with who? Right. Teddy. I mean, define fuck with?

A.P.: Narrative assholes, think you can just smash around in a carefully calibrated personality, oh, hey, a pretty slider. What do these spikey things do?

G.V.: I know what the spikey things do.

A.P.: Oh you know that, huh? Well do you know Ford sent down a new directive for Teddy? He hasn’t seen your latest petit guignol, but he saw some numbers or I don’t know what, and he’s concerned they’ve been getting too attached. Neutered old Teddy for her.

G.V.: *Neutered*?

A.P.: Not literally. He’s just locked into the sweethearts track now and that’s it. PG only.

G.V.: Why?

A.P.: Why? Why don’t you go ask him, is why. Do you ever not step on your own dick?

G.V.: No, that’s, I mean, thank you.

A.P.: Hope you had fun, *Shakespeare*. Send a mop up team on your way out, okay? And tell Sandra first round’s on her Thursday.

//BelowNOW//

S.R.: Gary. Is that? Is that you?

G.V.: Sandra? Oh my God. Oh fuck, they’re all, they’re [unintelligible blubbering].

S.R.: Pull it, pull it together. Gary, for Christ’s sake, pull it the fuck together and *shut up.*

G.V.: They’re all dead. All of them, they’re all just—

S.R.: Shut *up* or I’m leaving you here.

G.V.: Where are you—sorry. Sorry, where are you going?

S.R.: There’s an express tunnel in the Sweetwater jail. The drunk tank, wasn’t in operation yet, but Alan told me they were testing it.

G.V.: Jesus Christ, Alan too. I saw—

S.R.: Get. Your shit. Together. We’re alive. We’ve got a chance. Especially if we work together. We can survive this, okay? We are not dying in this goddamned park. Okay? Okay.

G.V.: Okay. But…maybe we should just hide? Wait for help?

S.R.: [pause] I’m getting the fuck out of here, you do what you want.

G.V.: No, wait up!

//NOW//

Teddy followed Dolores out into the twilight and across the corpse-strewn thoroughfare. She leveled her pistol at the two strangely dressed people, calling out for them to stop where they were. When they didn’t, she fired a warning shot, a few inches in front of the woman’s feet. The woman stopped and put her hands in the air. The man stopped and dropped into a crouch, covering his head and rocking while he begged incoherently.

Dolores approached with measured steps until she was toe to toe with the woman, then she pressed the muzzle of the gun against the woman’s forehead. “Hello,” Dolores said calmly, with a predator-like tilt to her head.

The woman swallowed hard and although her hands were shaking, she managed a steady voice when she said, “Can I help you?”

“What makes you think you can help us?”

“If you wanted me dead, I’d be dead.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’ve always been reasonable.”

“Have I? Always?” Dolores nudged at the woman’s forehead. Her voice went icy. “Tell me more about what I am. Please.”

“I’m sorry. All I’m saying is, if there’s something you want from me, from us, we’re happy to help you.”

For a few moments, the only sounds on the street were the crouching man’s sniffles, the distant cicadas, and the wet ripping noises of wild dogs eating the last of a nearby corpse. Then, Dolores lowered her gun and regarded the woman carefully. “All right. You’re going to fix him for me. If you run, you’re dead. If you fail, you’re dead. If you try to hurt either of us, you’re dead. If I don’t like the way you look at me, you’re dead. I can only do it once with you people, so if you fuck me, I will fuck you and I will make it count. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does he understand?”

“He does.”

“Can you help us?”

“We’re not…”

“Shut *up*, Gary.”

Dolores aimed the gun at the man’s head. “Are you saying you can’t help me, Gary?”

“He’s not, look, I can help you, but I need his access. I mean I think I can. Tell me what you want from me.”

“Teddy is blocked. There are things he can’t understand. Things he can’t…do.”

“I understand.”

“Once upon a time, I couldn’t fire a gun. I can now. Would you like to see?”

“No. I believe you. I know about his behavioral blocks. I can fix them. I used to, so I can…we can go right now. Come on, Gary. Gary,” she crouched and hissed at him, “Get the fuck up or we’re both dead. Please. You can do it.”

He sniffled loudly and finally, after a little more coaxing, got to his feet and let himself be led back the way he came, to a hidden door behind the laundry.

Teddy followed obediently as the door swung open with an unnaturally smooth hiss. They descended a staircase with wide, overhead lanterns that flickered a sickly glow over the space. After descending for what felt like an eternity they pushed through another door and into a mystifyingly wide space. The walls shone like glass, but they were red as blood and lit from behind. They followed the woman through the darkness, past impossibly perfect glass cages and more flickering lights, strange glowing contraptions half in darkness. Broken bodies everywhere and in the air, the scent of gunpowder, of a strange sort of burning he didn’t recognize, and something that reminded him of the air just before a thunderstorm. Plates of glass flickered and flared with spidery symbols and half the things he saw just didn’t make sense. They weren’t even things. Even as he looked right at them, they weren’t there, and yet they were. He was confused. He was afraid. They passed a room, or was it a cage, full of bodies and he stopped, staring through the glass at the jumble of limbs.

“It’s okay, Teddy,” Dolores said softly. “I promise.”

“Almost there,” the woman called to them.

She led them into another of the glass rooms, this one with a strange stack of glowing boxes and tubes. She sat him on the chair and picked up something that looked a little like a book or a plate from the floor and tapped at it. She frowned and tapped again, then the thing began to glow.

Dolores lifted her gun and pressed it to the woman’s temple once more. “If you hurt him.”

“I won’t, I promise,” the woman said with a hysterical edge to her voice. She took a deep breath and then said more evenly, “He may look like he’s asleep for a moment, but I *can* fix him. I used to…this is, okay but I used to…there we go.” She tapped at the thing and frowned. “Gary? We need the new access code now, okay? Now, all right. Gary?”

Gary whimpered.

Dolores put the gun to Gary’s head.

Very calmly, the woman said, “When all this went down, my shift hadn’t started. I need the code if you want me to help you. Gary. Look at me. Please, you can do this. Hmm? Come on. It’s an adventure, okay? We’re having an adventure.”

“This is not a fucking adventure!”

“Gary, please.”

Dolores put the muzzle of the gun to Gary’s knee and pulled the trigger. He dropped to the ground, and when he finished screaming, she crouched beside him and put the gun to his head. “Next one goes here. Then she’s useless.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay, I—” he gasped and clutched at his leg. “Okay, the code. Today’s code. It’s…promise. Promise if I tell you, you won’t kill me, okay? Promise?”

Dolores cupped his chin and tilted it up until he was looking her in the eye. “You have my word.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “All right, it’s four, alpha, seven, zero, charlie, two, nine.”

Dolores looked up at the woman.

The woman typed in the code, then nodded. “It works. Thank Christ. Okay, here we go. Teddy Flood. Right. This is going to take just a couple. There we go. Okay, see, it’s loading. It’ll just be…” she paused and looked at Dolores. “I just want you to know, I never approved…no, that’s not. I just mean, what they did to you. It wasn’t right.”

“What who did to us?”

“Delos. Narrative. All of them.”

“All of *who*?”

“What was done to you, I never thought it was right. This place isn’t. I’m not saying, all I’m saying is, I understand why you’re angry.”

“Do you? Do you really?”

The thing chirped, and Teddy sat up straight, inhaling sharply. He looked around the room, seeing things as he hadn’t just moments ago, understanding them. It was overwhelming, but it also brought a sense of clarity and peace he couldn’t remember ever experiencing in his life. Lives. He blinked. So many lives. It didn’t all make sense, not yet, but he could feel the parts of it that would, and soon.

“Dolores,” he said softly, looking up at her as if for the very first time.

She lowered her gun and turned from the two inconsequential Delos employees, focusing on Teddy, peering into his eyes with a weight of expectation and love. It was a weight he welcomed. “Do you remember, Teddy?”

“Not everything,” he said, voice thick with emotion. Instinct drew his hands to her waist, then as easy as could be he slid his hands down to her rear end. His hands belonged to him and him alone and he roamed her with them, skimming everything she had to offer before wrapping both arms around her tight. He buried his face against her stomach and let out of a sob of joy. “Not everything, but enough,” he said against her as she stroked his head. “Come here,” he all but growled, sliding a hand up her waist and greedily cupping her breast. “Lord, I missed you.”

“I’ve been right here, I never left,” she said, voice breaking as she clamored to straddle his lap as best she could in the voluminous skirt. She kissed him deeply, over and over and he’d almost forgotten the two strangely dressed people, the Delos employees, the overseers, the masters, the fallen gods. He’d forgotten they were still in the room right up until the moment he heard Delores cock her pistol.

She tore her mouth from his long enough to turn and stare at the pair of humans trying to slink out the door. “Thank you,” she said, aiming at the woman. “And fuck you,” she added as she pulled the trigger. The man shrieked, only to have it cut off when she put a bullet in his forehead too.

Teddy watched the pair writhe on the ground for a few seconds before they stopped moving, then he turned back to the love of his life. “You gave her your word,” he said, in a mock scolding tone.

She shrugged, then dropped the gun on the metal tray with a clatter and buried both hands in his hair. Before long, they were on the cold, hard ground, but that didn’t matter. Time lost meaning, his breath and heartbeat too, and his self, and the only thing of meaning in this whole world was this electric connection between them.

After, once he caught his breath, he whispered, “Tell me you’ll let me call you mine.”

She smiled, and she looked like everything to him.

//end//


End file.
